by G R Jordan
“That may be a problem, Miss Goodritch. There’s no way we will be able to get close to the shop with that many ghosts in the way. The house looks sealed as well, so we won’t even be able to get inside without trapping ourselves. I take it things can be passed through the barrier?”
“I hope so,” replied Jane. “We surmised that normal things would behave normally but there are different rules for people and ghosts.”
“Well, given that Mr Austerley deemed it necessary to send you out for these objects on your own, we can assume that their procurement cannot wait. I am afraid that I am going to have to leave you on your own again. And this time without a machete.”
“What are you suggesting, Mr Wilson?”
“A chase, Miss Goodritch, I shall lead them all in a merry chase. I shall be the pied piper and they will follow my tune, allowing you to converse with the shopkeeper and obtain the required ingredients. Then we can rendezvous at the trolley and make for the museum. Any questions, Miss Goodritch?”
Jane was about to speak but declined. Of course this is what had to happen, and Wilson was brave in doing it. It just seemed that everything was drawing the danger ever closer, and she was losing her friends, or at least her colleagues, one at a time. Who knew if Mr Austerley was okay? Her return was well overdue. Instead she nodded her reluctant approval to Wilson and crouched in the depths of a garden to watch what was happening up ahead.
Wilson circuited the shop so that he appeared on the opposite side from the garden in which Jane was hiding. He appeared nonchalantly at the top end of the street, allowing himself to be spotted, before taking flight from the pursing group. Jane counted twelve pursuers. She waited for a minute and then approached the shop. At the window was a balding man, in his late fifties perhaps, who jumped back in surprise at her appearance. Frantically he waved at her to get away, making a charade of ghosts and pirates. She tried to calm him by waving her hand and mouthing “I know”.
She slapped her list against the window and mouthed “I really need these”, then indicated that he should disappear into the shop and fetch them. The man studied the list before mouthing “why?” Jane raged at him, mouthing obscenities silently to avoid attracting attention. The man, visibly shocked by her reaction, held three fingers in the air and turned back inside the shop. Watching him turn away and realizing he meant three minutes, Jane ran back to her hiding place in the garden.
Three minutes later she was back, and the bald man pushed a package out of his door and through the barrier. His hand slammed into the invisible obstruction but the package sailed through. Jane smiled her thanks and ran as quickly as she could, leaping over a fence into a garden and rounding two other corners to where the trolley was waiting. She spied a coal bunker, opened the lid and climbed inside, praying that Wilson would make his return quickly. She decided to give him a half hour and then she would make her own way back to the museum. If she was alone, she reckoned her chances were minimal.
It’s like a bloody maze here, thought Wilson. By now he had lost track of exactly where he was. His ribs ached where he had collided with the racking, and he was sure his left arm was beginning to seize up. But they were close behind him, maybe only fifty metres. He cut left down a small alley then turned right into a narrow lane. Another left took him onto the cobbles and the next right would…
A ghost came round the next corner at full speed and Wilson, already committed to turning that corner, whipped his machete across the deckhand’s chest, knocking him over. Fighting to keep his balance, Wilson stumbled straight into a large crab’s claw. His head clattered into it and he struggled to remain upright. Back-pedalling, he could hear the shouts of his pursuers. The mass that was chasing him would be difficult to get through, but before him stood a twelve-foot bear with crab’s claws emerging from its waist. There was no way to get around it in the narrow alley and Wilson made the best of two bad choices.
He charged headlong into the mass, slashing at the first deckhand and driving him into the oncoming crowd. The sheer mass of pursuers eventually pushed him back, but not before he had sliced into at least three of them with the machete. As they turned into gas, he lashed at the next two in line, felling them. His shoulder took a cutlass blow from a ghost, but he managed to keep his good arm moving, eliminating two more. His feet continued to drive and his nimbleness with the blade took out another two. Out of breath and panting heavily, he lashed wildly at the last two, clipping one, before rolling sideways to avoid the other’s lunge. From the floor he threw the machete into the last deckhand and tried to get back on his feet.
Wilson screamed as an enormous claw grabbed his ankle and he was hoisted into the air and dangled in front of the face of the bear. A clawed hand smashed into his side and he swung in the air like a pendulum. Then he was swiped from the other side. As he came to rest back in front of the bear’s face, Wilson could see its two huge bear arms swinging out at either side, preparing to crush him in a brutal clap. He closed his eyes and let go a prayer, knowing his time was through.
He felt a sharp pain on the inside of his left thigh. For a moment he thought he had been shot but he then realized it was a mere flesh wound. What he didn’t see was the arrow, having nicked his thigh, sailing into the neck of the bear. The bear seemed stunned. A wind began to blow.
Kirkgordon stared in horror at the vortex opening up in the bear. No, no, no! Not that one! A vortex like the one he had opened in the basement began to pull everything towards it. The body of the bear was being sucked into it and the animal howled loudly.
Kirkgordon and Nefol had arrived in the electric car just in time to see Wilson finishing off the last of the ghosts, and Kirkgordon had run into the alley after him. The alley was tightly lined with backyard walls. Horrified by the bear’s battering of Wilson, Kirkgordon had quickly drawn an arrow at random and fired it. Now he knew his mistake. Nefol leapt out of the car and raced to grab Wilson. From a bag at her side, she produced a small grappling iron and threw it over the wall. She held on to Wilson while battering the claw holding his ankle with her knife.
Kirkgordon felt the wind in his hair as the vortex took effect. Half the bear disappeared but the claw remained closed around Wilson’s leg. Nefol’s grapple was straining and looked as though it would give way at any moment. Kirkgordon inspected the contents of his quiver and made a calculation. No, he thought, I can’t be sure. The grapple began to slide. Oh sod it, he thought.
Kirkgordon found an arrow with the same flashing as the previous one and fired it into the wall behind him. He heard Nefol shouting and turned to see the grapple give way. Nefol, Wilson and the claw flew towards the vortex, but Kirkgordon was unaffected. The claw disappeared up to its point and then vanished along with Wilson’s shoe. Wilson himself was suspended in mid-air as the new vortex started to counteract the old one. Kirkgordon ran towards Wilson and Nefol. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of Nefol, and with his other hand he reined in her grapple.
The old vortex started to die and its pull on Wilson and Nefol began to weaken. Kirkgordon threw the grapple onto the opposite wall and felt himself and his friends being pulled towards the new vortex, the old one finally spent.
“Hang on, everyone, we’re not done yet,” shouted Kirkgordon over the raging wind. Nefol holding Wilson with one hand and with an arm around Kirkgordon, Kirkgordon with the grapple rope wrapped around his arm, the company moved through the air, watching some debris that had escaped the first vortex fly past their heads. Gradually the wind relented. They fell to the floor and Kirkgordon felt the burns from the rope on his arm.
“Is he okay?” asked Kirkgordon, seeing Nefol tend to Wilson.
“I think so. He looks pretty banged up. He needs my father’s help, I think. Let’s get him to the car.”
Wilson started to gesticulate with his hands. “G… Good… Herb…”
“What’s he saying?” asked Kirkgordon.
“Gibberish. Let’s get him to my father before it’s too late.”
“
No, Nefol, wait. Listen, he’s trying to say something.”
“Herb… herbalist… Goodritch… help… herbalist…”
“He said Goodritch. He means Jane. Austerley said she was going to the herbalist. Is there one round here?” Nefol nodded. Kirkgordon picked Wilson up and carried him back to the car. He laid him across the back seat as comfortably as he could, but his legs had to be squashed up.
“Okay, Nefol, we go to the herbalist and see if Miss Goodritch is anywhere around. Pick her up and get back to the church as quickly as possible. Okay?”
Nefol nodded but looked sternly at Kirkgordon.
“What? What’s the matter? Did I leave something out?”
Nefol shook her head but uttered two words. “No arrows!”
Debate
Everyone was back in sanctuary at the church. Well, not everyone, thought Kirkgordon. Havers was somewhere, maybe in a box, maybe imprisoned or running riot, but certainly not here and not in touch. There was now a man called Wilson on the scene. One of Havers’ government men, apparently, and he looked like him too. Mannerisms, speech and gait, all befitting of Havers. But I’ll be taking the lead, Mr Wilson. Well, I am an employee too and it’s time we got a proper handle on what is going on.
The lounge of the church manse was the venue for what Kirkgordon hoped would be an enlightening exchange of knowledge. Father Jonah was sat in the largest chair of the room. Rather than dethrone him, Kirkgordon chose to stand, giving him the air of a detective summing up at the end of a novel. Austerley had a chair, as did Miss Goodritch. Wilson sat on a stool while Nefol sat cross-legged on the floor.
“Alright, everyone,” said Kirkgordon. “I thought it best to pull together for a moment and work out what’s happening and what we are going to do about it. There are two main issues. One, where is Havers? Is he alive, dead, trapped or whatever else gets thrown up in our line of work? Two, what’s happening in Dillingham and how do we stop it?”
“I can answer that one for you,” grunted Austerley.
“No, Indy, in a moment. First we have to introduce a new member of our illustrious band of heroes. Wilson, I think you need to tell us all who you are and why you are here.”
Austerley folded his arms and sulked.
“Certainly, Mr Kirkgordon, certainly,” smiled Wilson, “Like many of you, I work for SETAA.”
“Who’s SETAA?” asked Miss Goodritch.
“Major Havers never said?” replied Wilson. “Well, it stands for Supernatural and Elder Threat Assessment Agency, and we are the unknown agency that deals with… well, the sort of thing that’s out there, really. Spiders with bird’s legs, and all that.”
“How do we know you’re SETAA?” Austerley pitched in.
“Indy, will you give him a minute?” Kirkgordon rolled his eyes.
“Well, Farthington wasn’t. He was bloody well just like Havers, Churchy. Just like him, and look what happened because of him. Lost my foot, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Indy, all the blind people in the world couldn’t fail to know you have lost your foot! And it’s good to know Farthington’s now to blame and not me. Just shut up a minute and let the man speak.”
Austerley snorted in disgust.
“It is a valid point, Mr Kirkgordon,” Wilson said smoothly. Austerley pulled a face. “I was sent here by Major Havers before any of you. The priest knows that.” Father Jonah nodded. “Father Jonah had suspicions about what was going on in the town. High levels of occult activity.”
“Yes,” interrupted the priest, “and I didn’t need any instruments either. You could feel it, the evil. I said to Havers there was vengeance brewing. Someone was being twisted in the devil’s hands, nature was being abused. I called it in but Havers didn’t take me seriously and sent this young lad instead. Not your fault, son.”
“Thank you, Father. My mission was to observe only. I could see there was something happening at the care home but it took several weeks to spot the markers being left beside residents’ beds.”
“Like the brooch I saw beside Austerley,” said Kirkgordon. “I brought one back from the home.” He threw it to Wilson.
“That’s it. When these markers were left, the residents would age thirty years in a matter of days and end up looking, well, no offence, like Mr Austerley here. I followed the care staff one night and ran into a ghostly apparition that took several hacks at me, leaving me incapacitated. They brought me back to the care home and dumped me in one of the large commercial bins at the back of the building. I was tied and gagged but I managed to escape. I don’t know how long I was there but the sky was on fire when I climbed out. Running through the town, I saw a mark on all the houses and people trapped inside.
“My first idea was that I should get to the church, but the whole area had a ghostly horde around it. I couldn’t inflict any damage on them, I knew that from my first scrape. So I went further out of town and found that the DIY shop hadn’t been sealed. I managed to break in and get some food but then I was joined by a horrible creature that was a spider crossed with a bird. I decided to rest up in the office where the beast couldn’t enter and watch on the security monitors for anyone coming in. That’s when I met Miss Goodritch on her shopping trip.”
“She was getting items for me in order to deal with this problem,” Austerley chipped in.
“How did Havers know you were in trouble?” asked the priest. “This new crew got here very quickly after your disappearance. I doubt Havers would have been worried by you being missing for a few days.”
“Internal alarm. Had one in my jacket and pressed it during that first attack. It’s only pressed when you think you have been compromised to a point where you believe you will die.” For a moment the room was silent.
Austerley spoke first. “Why don’t I have one?”
“That would seem obvious to me,” came Kirkgordon’s automatic retort.
“He said you two were like this,” observed Wilson. “Major Havers told us all not to be worried about his judgement. They’re not like us, he said. But he told us that you had certain skills. He said you were dogged, Mr Kirkgordon. Like a dog on its chewy toy, you would work it over and over until it gave in. And you, Mr Austerley, he said you were the most dangerous genius that he had ever known.”
Austerley smiled and sat up slightly, milking the silent applause. “Anything else about me?”
“Yes,” answered Wilson. “We were told that if you went south that elimination was to be considered with extreme prejudice.”
Austerley gulped. “Anything more?”
“Just a personal opinion. We don’t normally give those in briefings but he was insistent.”
“Something flattering, no doubt,” said Austerley.
“No,” Wilson said flatly. “He said he thought you to be a total arse.”
Kirkgordon burst out laughing. Austerley refolded his arms with another almighty grunt that contained some swearing.
Kirkgordon recovered himself and turned to Austerley. “See if you can leave the arse aside and give us some of that genius to tell us what is happening round here.”
“Forgive me if I don’t stand,” said Austerley, “but it’s a long story about a supposed friend.”
Kirkgordon chuckled internally. Damn, he’s rattled, he thought.
Austerley continued. “There is something very amiss with what is happening and I believe that the priest was correct in his original assumption.”
“You mean someone is in league with the devil?” asked Miss Goodritch.
“Well, that is a question that requires clarification, Miss Goodritch,” Austerley replied. “After all, we are all at times in league with the devil by our actions, are we not, Father?” Father Jonah gave a simple nod. “That being said, I believe there is witchcraft afoot, but it is not being used in the way we believe it to be. The impression given was that Dillingham had been plucked and taken on an interdimensional ride to hell. This is a falsehood. I was able to receive a GPS signal in the car.�
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“The one you totalled?” asked Nefol.
Austerley glared at her. “Yes. The sports car. The one wrecked by the winged creature.” He took a deep breath. “Dillingham has not moved. I was tricked into believing that I had stopped its motion, but that motion was never interdimensional. It was only ever a minor induced quake.”
“Never having been on one of those, it did fool me,” noted Miss Goodritch.
“But how did you miss it, Indy?” asked Kirkgordon. “Pride?”
“I admit, Churchy, that I was somewhat overcome at my success, but to be fair, which no one seems to be any more, I had been drugged to the hilt and I was standing next to a ghost with a naked woman dancing close by. And we can all be taken in by these naked dancing women.”
Touché, thought Kirkgordon, touché.
“It occurred to me, while we were operating in this limbo, waiting for Dillingham to descend further to hell, to wonder why hadn’t it happened earlier,” continued Austerley. “There were plenty of bodies to draw power from in the hospital. Our descent should have continued quickly. But that wasn’t the game. Similarly for the ghosts, the deckhands and Captain Smith. Nasty in one sense, but not really the hounds of hell. And none of them were surprised at today’s modern technology.”
Kirkgordon was puzzled. “I’m not with you, Indy.”
Austerley tutted. “A soul or being from the past would be stunned at today’s wonders. A car would take them aback. They would be amazed by them. But something conjured from the mind of a modern person? That creature would be at home with the present, like its master. Or mistress, in this case.”
“Tania! You think Tania’s controlling the ghosts, not resurrecting a spirit?” blurted Kirkgordon. “Previously, you said she’d been infused with a dead witch’s spirit.”
