by P M Cole
Bernard waved his lantern towards the gate, in the distance a similar phantom like glow moved back and forth and then bobbed and grew in size until a thickset man appeared.
“Mr Hayward?”
Bernard nodded and handed the man a coin of some kind.
“You’ll get the rest after I have spoken to my friend.”
The man then unlocked the gate and pulled one half open and we moved inside.
He led us forward. “If any of them inside get a hold of you, I’m not responsible for what might happen? Got that?”
“We know,” said Bernard.
The man looked at me. “This no place for a young miss, you—”
Bernard raised his hand. “Just show us to room eighty-nine. I believe it’s on the third level.”
The man nodded and we kept on walking through the fog until a wall with barred windows loomed above us. I momentarily paused as memories flashed into my mind.
“You OK?” said Colin.
I nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”
Some of the panes of glass were lit, but the extent of the structure was lost to me due to the conditions.
We arrived at a service entrance and moved out of the dark and into a dimly lit corridor. Distant screams were obvious even here and became ever louder the further into the guts of the buildings we moved.
With each corridor that moved us closer to the sounds of torment the heavier my legs and heart became. My mind struggled to contain my fear, and the compulsion for me to turn and run was almost too much to bear, but instead, I gritted my teeth and pushed on.
We ascended a narrow staircase, moving past the first two floors, our only light being provided by the man’s lantern and Bernard’s until we arrived at a door with chains across it.
The man looked at us, his concern obvious. “Once ya inside ‘ere. That’s it. I’ll wait on this side for thirty minutes. If you’re not back by then, I’m locking it up and I’m off. Got that?”
We all nodded.
My heart pounded. I could not face being confined within walls such as these once again. My mind flashed back to the moment the baby farmer pulled me kicking and screaming to the gates of the asylum, telling the governor that ‘This child has the devil in her!’ I concentrated on the faces around me.
Not here for me. Not here for me.
The man slid his iron key into the lock and pulled the chains free, then turned the heavy knob and pushed the door open.
A wall of stench escaped from the darkness, helping my memories gain a greater hold.
“Thirty minutes!” said the man.
We went to walk inside when he held his hand up, then rummaged in his pocket. “Almost forgot. Here’s the key to the room. Do not lose it! They’d throw me in here with the rest of them if they found out!”
I looked at my timepiece then followed Bernard and Colin inside. A corridor disappeared into the gloom, lined with prison-cell-like doors. There was no sound. The screams and howls from the previous wards were oddly absent from this floor, the highest. That made it worse. Each cell we passed felt as if it was my old room. Where you were alone, rotting away. I shook my head to bring me back to the present.
Bernard looked at the scratched number in the closest barricade to madness. “Eighty-one… it’s not far.”
We walked another eight doors, stopping at the innocently looking eighty-ninth.
“Lucas? Are you there? It’s Bernard,” he whispered.
A scraping noise came from within the cell and suddenly I felt light-headed. I placed my hand on the clammy wall to steady myself, my two compatriots not being aware.
“Lucas Wraith? Are you in there?”
A face jumped in front of our gaze. Large bloodshot eyes appearing on the other side of the small barred window in the door making us jump.
“Of course I’m here, Bernard. I’m crazy. Where else would I be?!” His pupils quickly switched to me. “Ooo, I like her. She’s full of it. Born with it. Easy on the eyes too.”
My head still swam slightly, as if I had too much of Mr Gladwell’s gin. I gave a faltering smile.
Bernard also awkwardly smiled. “This is Lucas Wraith, he means well.”
“You here to get me out?” He receded into the darkness before Bernard could reply.
Quiet words came from the cell. We leaned in closer trying to hear when suddenly he reappeared.
“You’re not here to get me out. But that’s what I want, Bernard. Fair for fair. I help you, you help me.”
Bernard hesitated, his anguish obvious. “I can’t, Lucas…”
Lucas’s bearded face became desperate. “Bernard… you gotta, you hafta… I’m going crazy—” He faded into shadow, once again talking to an invisible stranger. “I’m going sane? No, I’m sure the correct term is crazy. Which one is the bad one again?”
The insanity of his friend was painful for Bernard to witness. He rested his hand on the iron-plated door when a click came from it and it opened an inch.
We all looked at the lock in shock. The key the man had given Bernard was protruding from the keyhole. Bernard immediately felt his pocket.
“I’m only joshing with ya!”
The door swung open and a man of modest height, build, and of advancing years, stood looking at us. His clothes, if you could call them that as they were shredded and hung from his limbs in certain places, were also stained in a multitude of colours, including blood red and a mixture of browns. We all placed our hands across our noses, including, surprisingly, Colin.
“I’m not here to release you!” protested Bernard.
“I know! You said that the first time…” He walked slowly across the threshold then looked at me. “But I think you’re going to need my help.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The asylum guard stood looking at Lucas, and then to the five shillings in his hand. “I dunno, Mr Hayward. Gonna be a stink when they find out he’s gone. Mr Barlow’s got a thing for him.”
“I will miss the warden too,” said Lucas, smiling.
Bernard pressed another shilling into the man’s hand. “Just say he passed away during the night, and you removed the body and gave it to the undertakers.”
“Undertakers? We usually just—” The man stopped when he saw Lucas looking at him. “Yes, I can do that, sir.”
“Good. Now, we need to leave,” said Bernard.
It wasn’t long before we were back in the sewers, and the weight I had carried for the past hour had lifted somewhat.
“There must be some juicy rats down here?” said Lucas as we stepped through ice-covered puddles.
“Too many…” said Colin.
“It’s just, I’m really hungry…”
“I… err… at my residence I have some food,” I said. I looked back at the dishevelled man and wondered how he could help us against Finlay.
Soon we were back at my basement entrance. The three others eagerly waited to be let inside. I told myself this was a one-off and opened the door to my underground dwelling.
“Wait here. I need to see if Mr Gladwell is home.”
I searched the ground floor of the shop calling out to see if I was alone, which I was.
Returning to the basement a little concerned at my employer’s lack of appearance, I turned on the lamp and reluctantly invited everyone inside.
“Extraordinary…” said Bernard, examining the clocks and other various mechanical devices I had created.
I smiled awkwardly. “I just like to fix and make things.”
Lucas moved from machine to machine, sketch to sketch as if each one contained a hidden secret.
“What’s this?” said Colin, looking at the armour I had created.
“I got the idea from the museum earlier. Hopefully, it will offer some form of protection.”
Lucas stopped his treasure hunt and looked back at me. “Yes. Yes. She’s special. Who were your parents?”
I hesitated to reply.
Bernard looked at me. “Maybe
we should get Mr Wraith something to eat and drink, then we can discuss pressing matters?”
I nodded and walked upstairs, being a bit wary of leaving the three of them amongst my possessions.
After thirty or so minutes I had returned with a pan of eggs, fried with potatoes and lard on the open fire, and a tankard of Mr Gladwell’s gin, as well as some cups. I had made the meal to be eaten by everyone, but Mr Wraith grabbed it from my hand and started devouring what I had made with his fingers. Despite the spectacle, I was glad he was enjoying the meal.
We all sat around my work table, and I poured out a tipple of the spirit and passed it around.
“So, you can—” Lucas swallowed then kept chewing, bits of food falling from his lips. “— Change metals, bend them and the like?”
“Yes, it would appear so.”
“Takes some serious juice to manipulate the elements, especially without any enchantments. But it’s only metals you can mess around with?”
“I think so.”
“Hmm… a very specific talent, that is.”
He appeared to be studying me.
“She is being hunted by Cephas—”
Lucas spluttered, almost choking on his food. “Finlay! That good-for-nothing blaggard?”
Bernard nodded. “He also appears to have one of the Gorgons working with, or for, him…”
Lucas stopped chewing. “Hmm… that… that could be a problem. Very independent are the sisters, or were when I knew them.”
“You knew more than one?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, the Seymour sisters. I only was acquainted with Martina, never really knew Roselyn.” He licked his lips and put the pan down heavily. I went to reach forward but I was too late, and he crushed a tiny pocket watch mechanism before continuing. “But if Martina—”
“She’s now calling herself Daria…” said Bernard.
“Fine. Daria then. If she’s thrown in with that lot, then she must have a good reason…”
He suddenly sprung from his stool grabbing my head, inspecting it as if I had lice.
I struggled to be free. “Remove your hands, sir!” I protested.
“Stop your fussing, girl. I’m trying to help you!”
I hated being touched, but forced myself to relax, trusting there was some purpose to this exercise. “How can manhandling my skull help me?”
“Quiet!”
I watched him in the mirror on the wall, seeing that his eyes were closed, and his mouth moved as he mumbled something. Then I saw the sparkling orange glow. It emanated from my head and rose upwards towards him.
Memories started to pour through my mind.
“What are you doing to me!”
Bernard leaned forward. “He’s not doing anything harmful to you. He’s just trying to learn of your past—”
I jumped off my stool and moved near the wall. “My past is my own, sir!”
An expression I had not yet seen since his escape, was spread across Mr Wraith’s face. One of sadness. He held out his hand, which for some reason I took, and he led me back to the stool. He then sat in front of me.
“See. Here’s the thing. The way magic works is if you make enough of a sacrifice to a god, then you might be granted some of their powers. Then… there are those that are born with all of a god’s abilities, but that… that’s something which never happens. Last time I know of was when those knights were crusading across the Holy Land. So, point being. I’ve never met anyone like that, until now.”
“I… don’t know what that means…”
“That is why Finlay is after you, Cog,” said Bernard. “You were born with godly powers. He wants to use you to further his own plans!”
Lucas shook his head. “Not Finlay. Mean. Vindictive. A scoundrel, no doubt, but he’s not got the mind for anything more than murder.”
The branding on Finlay and Daria came to my mind. “They both had a key-shaped scar on their hands. It was if it was burnt into them, like a brand…”
Lucas leaned back then looked down in thought. “Just before… I was incarcerated. There was talk in magic circles of an evil presence. One that was trying to gain a foothold in our society. At its centre was an individual. Somebody high up, but I was never able to find out who. Some said that he or she was one of the old gods. Returned from the past. That was why I needed more power, you see? I needed to be ready. To be able to protect them…” His eyes looked off into the distance.
Bernard cleared his throat. “I made sure to visit them…”
Lucas looked at him, his eyes glossy. “You are a good friend. And the manor?”
“Some tried to purchase it… the only way I could stop them was by purchasing it myself…”
Lucas reached across and briefly, but firmly, held Bernard’s wrist. “Good friend indeed.”
“Maybe there is some way we can transfer the deed…”
“No no. It is better this way. None shall know I’m on the out. Is there anyone living there?”
“Heavens, no. Also, I’ve not been able to afford for a handyman to look after the place or the grounds, so it may be in a state of disrepair.”
“I should return there tomorrow.” Lucas then looked back to me. “If Finlay is hunting you, and if you are willing to accept my help, I will do my best to protect you from him.”
I smiled, my own eyes feeling moist. “Thank you.”
A smile returned to his face. “Then the first thing we need to do is find out who’s god powers you got swigging around inside you!”
“How…”
He looked around my small room. “Not here. The ritual can be quite… explosive. Do you have anywhere larger?”
“Umm… I do,” said Colin.
*****
The light that lit the cavernous space that consisted of the Ratters’ subterranean village appeared even more foreboding than usual. Lucas stood in a cleared area, which in any other town would have been the main square. He was now washed and shaved and wore attire with less holes, given to him by Olivia.
The crowd, which were gathered at the edges, looked on from their canvas-covered homes, and from high up on ledges.
I too would have preferred to have remained a member of the audience, but Lucas smiled and beckoned me to him. I took a deep breath and slowly walked to where he had laid out three bowls, each containing water.
He looked out to the onlookers. “I’m going to try to call upon the goddess Athena. Me and her haven’t talked for quite a while, so I’m not sure as to whether she will take my request, but if she does, then things may get loud in here. Do not be alarmed! Mostly nothing can happen that will be too harmful…”
A ripple of concern ran around the crowd, which deepened when he produced a knife.
He looked directly at me. “Like I said, sacrifices.”
He tore the blade across his palm. Gasps filled the air. Letting some of the blood drip into the first bowl, he passed the knife to me.
“Just a small drop will suffice, into the second bowl, if you please.”
I looked at Bernard, Colin, and Olivia, each one’s face full of anticipation and placed the blade on my skin, then subtly pulled, causing a small gash to appear. I let some of the blood drop into the bowl. He passed me a cloth, which I wrapped around my hand as he had done for himself.
He leaned closer to me. “Right. Let’s see if she remembers me or not.”
He stored his knife, then held both of his forearms upwards, and closed his eyes. At first, the words he was repeating were just whispers, but they quickly rose in volume and ferocity. The bowls, which now contained pools of blood, started to tremble, and the liquid inside started to swirl. The candles flickered causing shadows to dance across the walls, and I was sure the temperature had dropped at least a few degrees as my breath appeared to me.
Knocks and bangs permeated the air, making those around duck as if unseen phantoms were attacking them.
Then a mist started to rise from the third bowl. At first, I thought it was
similar to the fog on the surface, but this was even thicker, and curled and crept upwards as if it was reaching for something… or someone.
Lucas’s words were now thunderous, being delivered in an unknown tongue. Shapes were forming within the ectoplasmic cloud. Sparks, as if a storm was breaking out within the ethereal mist, lit the ground, and spikes and domes pulsed, building and receding. The white form moved ever upwards, expanding in size and towards…
In a sudden movement, it seized Lucas, grabbing him by the throat and arms. Then lifted him a foot off the floor! I jumped back, frightened at this ghoulish vision as it now appeared to have taken on a human form.
Lucas’s eyes bulged and he gasped for breath. I looked at the others desperate for guidance on what to do. Just when it looked as if the life was about to drain from him, the entity dropped him to the ground and drove inside him, through his nose, ears, and eyes, his body vibrating from the impacts.
We all stood in shock, until an immense light emanating from him filled the entire area, causing all of us to shield our eyes.
Fortunately, within a few seconds, it died down, and we were able to look upon what Lucas had become. His entire body glowed, and tiny lights buzzed around him like luminous insects, but most shocking of all were his eyes which were now just radiant orifices.
He looked at me as if in judgement. I took a step back.
“Do not fear me, child…” His words were not his own, for his voice had a female cadence, and the sound itself you felt within your entire being, not just with your audible senses.
Lucas was no longer with us.
“Who… are you?” I asked.
“For I am the watcher of civilisation, the owl, the wise, the harbinger of war!” Her words rattled the brick towers around us causing puffs of dust to fall. Most around the den were cowering.
The next words that left my mouth, came from somewhere deep within me, for I had no rational reason to ask them.
“Who am I?”
She held her hand out. I walked forward and held it and instantly was filled with a wondrous energy. Suddenly even Lucas’s form had been removed from my mind and I saw instead a woman of great beauty.
She smiled. “You have been given the gift of the forge and sculpture—” Her words were no longer booming and terrifying, but comforting. “— of the arts.” She placed her other hand on mine. “Within you, child, is the power to create and build…” Her expression then changed to one of anger. “But also destruction through what you bring forth!”
