A Parish Darker: A Victorian Suspense Novella (10 page)

My host whipped around, crossing the room. He patted my cheek in a manner that appeared sympathetic, saying, “You are remarkable, though you are naïve—unlearned. But, do not take such a proclamation as a slight. I, for one, consider those enviable qualities in this world. In truth, I sense much of myself in you.”

I was unsure what to make of his assertion. I found myself staring forward, glancing to him only via my periphery vision. Through it, I saw my host find his way to the antique weapon gallery near the doorway.

“I have long been a fan of armaments of this sort,” said he, taking down a small and weathered knife with a golden hilt. “Each of these weapons has been proven in battle, or so I was told as a child. This collection was bequeathed by my father and before that to him by his father.”

Baron von Savanberg raised the knife in his hand above his head, making a slow slashing motion some distance from my chest. “Edwin,” he said, “I wish for you to have this. I see you are distraught by what you have seen here, but that will pass. Please keep this with you to ease your mind.”

My reluctance in handling such a weapon was clear to the Baron, of that I have no doubt. Yet, he was insistent, even going so far as to take my hand in his and place the hilt against my palm. I had no doubt upon seeing the blade in my hand that it had been used in battle as the Baron had claimed. It did exhibit the hallmarks of continued use, but it also had been restored to some degree. Before it was over, he handed me a scabbard to house the weapon and helped in strapping it around my waist.

“What are we to do now, Baron?” I asked. “If we will not call upon the police even now, what is it you intend to do?”

“My boy, with that, I will require your assistance and your assistance alone. Age and so much activity with it have done my body no good. Having an associate to aid in this endeavor will do us both well.” He paused, running his hand over his face before patting my shoulder once more. “I am hesitant, in a great many ways, to continue upon this path. However, I feel I must, to ensure all is right and the full gravity of the situation is understood. Without that assurance, we may never be sure of what is to come.”

I knew not what game the Baron was playing. Some solace was to be found in the sharp blade in my hand, despite the confusion mounting on all sides. Who the Baron’s next victim would be was not clear, but I felt that if it were to be me, I would not go without resistance.

“Come, we must proceed,” said the Baron as he took three long steps to the stairs on the other side of the study. The stairs led upward, in a circular pattern, along the outer wall. At the top was a formidable steel door whose weight likely rivaled that of an average man. It opened outward, onto the floor above, creating an additional barrier between what awaited and any outside observers.

The locks on the overhead hatch were various. The door itself was so heavy and the angle from the stairs so unusual that any attempt at forced entry would be, at best, protracted, and at worst, hazardous. The Baron took care in unlocking each bolt with the corresponding key, occasionally taking to special motions to undo the mechanisms.

With the final lock undone, the Baron hoisted—with a great deal of strength even in his older age—the door onto its hinges. The resulting sound was a steel ringing on par with the loudest sounds my ears have heard.

As the draw door was opened and the Baron disappeared into the dark crevice above, howling wind rushed into the room, causing the glassware below to shiver. The influx of air suggested the room above was a sizable one.

My initial impression of what waited was one of abundant confusion. I was unsure of what to make of the instruments lining the walls and even the floor. The room expanded upward with numerous sliding ladders akin to those in the library. To this day, I find it difficult to describe what I saw that night. It is unlike anything I should have ever expected to see in my lifetime.

The Baron led me around the sizable space that had existed above the study. Numerous concoctions of the steel variety had been formed near the center wall, with lines of copper affixed nearby. The source and destination for each was impossible to ascertain at a glance with so many running concurrently in varying directions.

“Do watch your step, dear boy,” said my host with his hand outstretched in front of me. “This is not a place in which you should wish to test your luck.”

What most caught my attention at the onset was a metal cask fastened to the wall. It had been split into halves, with buckles and braces affixed one quarter and three quarters high. The contraption was strange and otherworldly to my naïve mind.

“What is all of this?” I asked, no doubt with my confusion on full display.

He turned away, diverting his attention momentarily to an outstretched chart atop a desk nearby. Hundreds of notations had been made in various languages, no doubt in contexts only familiar to the author. The central fixtures of the documentation were magnetics, equations, question marks, underlines, and mentions of numerous disciplines outside my realm of expertise. A litany of each had been recorded on papers on the desk, floor, and walls.

Unable to stifle my curiosity, I took one such paper in hand that mentioned, among a great many other things, references to a Peltier and forms of conduction. Before I had the opportunity to delve any further, the Baron removed the scribbled document from my hand and replaced it exactly where it had been before.

“This may appear to be uneven to you, Edwin. It may even appear disorganized, but I can assure you I know even the smallest detail of this room by heart.”

He was nonplussed with my interference, instead turning his attention toward something of greater importance. I refrained from touching anything more but did take the time to closely observe the rest of the room. The ceiling of the tower that housed the study and now this new space was still some distance upward. Much of the space was unused yet still felt intensely private.

As I studied the area more intently, I noticed bunched metal threads running along the walls toward the ceiling. The leads originated at some point near the cask and stretched outward in every direction from there.

“Despite my earlier assurance, I have to ask again,” I asserted, watching the Baron write many small numbers and symbols in succession on the outstretched chart. “Why do you want me to see all this if you’re not going to tell me what this is about?”

“Edwin, Edwin!” said he, with more excitement than impatience. “There will be no doubt left by the time this has run its course. It is the most exciting endeavor of which either of us have ever been involved, I assure you.”

He caught me again looking at the metal cask in front of us. “Do not worry, my friend! Such a thing is nothing at all to concern yourself with, certainly not right now.”

The Baron pressed his hand firmly to the broad of my back to push me more toward the entrance and away from his work. He looked at his watch on occasion until finally bringing his hands together while drawing in a deep breath.

“If you wish to separate yourself from me,” the Baron said as he began coupling ends of metal wirings and fixtures together along the floor, “there would be no better time than now. Should you wish to leave, you should do so with immediacy.”

I confess to not entertaining the thought at the time, though in retrospect I regret it as much as anything in life. I felt, then, that I had some duty to oversee whatever it was that was to come. That feeling is one I cannot explain with resolve, but it had situated itself deep in my being that night.

Most regrettably, I must admit that the Baron had succeeded in convincing me the dead man’s life was not such a great loss. The more he spoke, the more he proceeded without mind for what had occurred, the more convinced I was that he was right—maybe this was not specifically a matter for the police. I did not still think him right for the way in which he handled the man’s end, or think that such an ending was necessary, but there are gray areas in life that do not always present ready answers.

I began to think some sort of madness had infected me while in that place. In fact, I am still not so sure it did not.

“If that is all,” said Baron Lechner von Savanberg, acknowledging my silence as an affirmation to join him, “do join me in what is to come.”

My host took his hand off his pen, off the chart he used it on, and placed it on a lever to his right. The rusted device had been forged for this one purpose. The Baron seemed to have more skills at this disposal than it at once seemed.

He took his pocket watch out one last time and glanced inside. Even the rain pouring outside at that time could do nothing to impede on the silence of those few moments.

The Baron’s hand remained at rest on the lever. In one swift motion, he brought it down with intense urgency. If forged for any other purpose, it surely would have cracked at its seam.

In the first moments, nothing happened. There was neither sound nor sight to notice. Slowly, I began to feel the unmistakable sensation of a warming room. It was as if a sizable fireplace had been ignited and reignited in one instance.

The wires along the wall began to radiate with the fervor of magmatic embers. A crackling began to emanate as the glow intensified and sparks began to fire in various directions. While I instinctively braced myself on the desk, the Baron merely marveled at what was before him. He made no effort to move or conceal himself from any perceived dangers, instead standing with his hands clasped behind his back. Perhaps it was my imagination at work, but it also felt as if the very foundation of the tower beneath our feet had begun to quiver.

As quickly as it began, it came to an end. The flickers became less frequent until they dissipated altogether. Likewise, the reddened glow that had settled over the wiring faded, leaving them the same dull, listless gray they were before. Ultimately, it had appeared as if nothing had changed.

 
I turned to the Baron in confusion, awaiting a reaction. He remained keenly focused on his machination and did not turn away until he was satisfied it had run its course. When he did, he only smiled, nodding to me, and motioning me to move back downstairs.

“Now, Edwin, we must leave here and attend to matters most important.” By all indications, nothing had come of what we had witnessed—strange as it appeared—but Baron Lechner von Savanberg appeared content as we descended the steps to the study with haste. He wasted no time sealing the hatch behind us and ensuring the complex locking mechanisms were back in place. Back on the ground and by my side, he took his axe back in hand. The blade had been cleaned in my absence, leaving no indications it had been used to slay a man earlier.

As I admired the blade, a cluster of lightning strikes joined the rain that continued to fall outside the castle walls. The dark that waited us in the hallway leading out of the study was temporarily illuminated by the bursts of light. Though one would normally feel safer in a lit space, I still recall with vivid certainty the unease of peeling back the dark brought to me in that moment.

The Baron swung the axe in his hand in circles to his side. I had not seen it for myself until now, but his familiarity with the weapon was surely not inconsiderable. With the lighting dimmed to nothingness once again, he stepped forward toward the exit.

“Edwin,” said he with as calm as demeanor as he ever had, “do ensure you bring with you everything there is that you do not care to lose, as there will be no further opportunities for mustering courage once you leave this room.”