Order of Britain: Stone of Madness (9 page)

“Come on in. The water's fine.”

Elizabeth gave a nervous laugh, and stepped into the darkness. After a moment's hesitation, Nathaniel followed.

The two of them immediately threw their hands to their temples, and screamed. Callum took a shocked step back as he watched the rage fill their eyes. A spark of dark fire filled Nathaniel's hands, and he ran at Callum, swinging his fist in a murderous arc.

Callum ducked under the blow, grabbing Nathaniel's wrist as he went.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. The response was a bestial growl as Nathaniel lashed a kick at him, his limbs trailing flame as he attacked.

Callum hazarded a glance over his shoulder. Elizabeth was knelt on the floor, her hands clasped to her head as she tried to push the darkness from her mind. A punch caught him in the ribs, the flames wrapped around Nathaniel's hand burning through his shirt. He grunted in pain, and kicked out, catching his friend in the ribs and spinning him away.

“Gordon!” he shouted, quickly pinching his earlobe. “Nathaniel and Elizabeth aren't resisting the negative energy!”

“The void energy will be protecting you, Callum. Is there any way you can bring them into it?”

Callum parried a kick from Nathaniel, and retreated towards Elizabeth. She was reaching for her carbine, and Callum swore.

“I'm open to suggestions!”

“Blood, Callum. Blood.” 

Clarence's voice came through the link clearly, and Callum paused for a moment. He flicked his wrist, and the silver sword sprang to life in his hand. Even in his madness, Nathaniel paused for a moment at the sight of the shimmering blade, before moving forward once again. Callum kicked him hard in the stomach, and felt his friend crease over around his boot. Turning, he launched himself at Elizabeth, the sword arcing round to smash into the barrel of her carbine.

The rifle span away, and Callum wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Holding her body in between himself and Nathaniel, he ran his free hand down the blade of his sword.

A line of crimson welled up along the palm of his hand, and he jammed it against her mouth.

***

“This is a hell of a risk, sir,” Gordon stated.

Clarence offered him a wry smile.

“It seems to be the night for them, my friend. Trust me, I have it on the highest authority that this will work.”

“But... human blood and dragon blood?”

“Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'blood will out'?”

***

Callum pushed Elizabeth away, dropped his sword, and spread his arms wide as Nathaniel charged at him once more. He met his friend like a rugby player delivering a tackle, and bore him to the ground. They wrestled for a few moments as Callum sought to clamp his bloody palm over Nathaniel's mouth.

He looked up as Elizabeth threw herself at them, and grabbed Nathaniel's wrists, pinning them to the floor.

Relief flashed across Callum's face,and he slammed his hand across Nathaniel's mouth, blood dripping from the cut on his palm into his friends throat.

Nathaniel coughed, and slowly stopped thrashing, sanity returning to his eyes. Callum carefully backed off, and picked up his sword. He watched Nathaniel carefully, his blade held ready for action.

“With all due respect,” Nathaniel said, “that was bloody disgusting.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and stood.

“He's fine.”

“Are you sure? He's making puns,” Callum said.

“Good point. Better kill him, just to be sure.”

Nathaniel got shakily to his feet, and gave them both a flat, unfriendly look.

“Neither of you are funny.” He glanced at Elizabeth. “How about you?”

“I'm fine. It went the other way for me – I got scared rather than angry.”

Nathaniel nodded, and grinned at Callum.

“I rather think you saved us there.”

The Dragon-Blood smiled slightly, and a small blush crossed his face.

“And a good thing too. I wouldn't want to lose either of you.”

Elizabeth coughed, and looked down at her wristwatch. 

“I think we'd better get moving if we want to get there this side of Christmas, don't you? How far away are we, would you say?”

“Two or three miles.”

“Alright, let's head off.”

Weapons in hand, they resumed their walk towards the heart of the darkness. 

***

Maggie had once again settled into her kitchen when The Girl arrived once more. Wordlessly, the cook passed her a cup of tea, not even looking up from the book she held before her.

The Girl took a seat, and sipped at the cup.

“They've gone to take action then?” she asked.

“They have. I assume you're not going to help them this time?”

The Girl frowned.

“There are some things that need to play out, Maggie. This is one of them.”

She settled back into her chair, her expression dark. 

“There are things moving in the void that are hidden from me, Maggie. And that's not happened in a long time.”

She sat staring into her cup, her eyes dark.

“Perhaps I gave them all too much Autonomy. The dragons spend all their time arguing, the fairies are all mad, the orcs fight among their clans, and the elves spend their existence interfering in things they have no business interfering in.”

Maggie reached out, and laid a hand on the Girl's shoulder. The white-cloaked young woman gave her a wry smile, and put down her cup.

“Tell Clarence I passed by, will you?”

“Of course. Where are you heading now?”

“Oh, here and then.”

***

There was a dead horse in the street, its head twisted at an unnatural angle. Behind it, a hansom cab was tipped on its side, the driver lying still beside the still-spinning wheel. A crow came down from the darkness above them, and began to peck at the horse's eyes.

Callum shuddered and turned away, his mind full of revulsion. The street was quiet now, but the trio of agents could see the signs of the chaos that had swept across the stones earlier that night. Blood dribbled from a corpse into the gutter, the crimson mixing with the gentle mist of rain that had begun to drift from the skies. Fire had gutted two of the houses on the street, their windows cracked and blackened by smoke.

A quiet hissing from the rain hitting the embers was the only sound.

Near the centre of the street, surrounded by a blooming rose of corpses, was the house. Its windows were dark, featureless voids in the facade. 

Callum felt like he was being watched – not by an unseen observer, but by the house itself. 

“Are we ready?” Nathaniel asked.

“As we'll ever be, I suppose.”

They walked towards the house, weapons held at the ready, and stepped towards the door. Callum gently pushed it open and stepped inside.

The house was dark and cool, a far cry from the chaos he'd expected. He stepped into the hallway, and glanced over his shoulder...just in time to see the door slam shut behind him.

***

“Callum!” Elizabeth shouted. She hammered on the door with her fist, but the portal remained closed.

“Can you hear us?” Nathaniel called.

“Of course I bloody can, I'm trapped, not deaf.”

They breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge.

“Can you open it from the inside?” Elizabeth asked.

The door handle rattled, but stayed obstinately closed.

“I'd say that's a no,” Callum said. “I suppose I'm on my own from here on out.”

“Just wait there, we can figure this out!” Nathaniel snapped.

“There isn't time, Nathaniel,” Callum said calmly. He glanced along the darkened hallway, and lowered his sword. “And... I think I've been invited.”

There was a silence from the two agents outside. When Nathaniel spoke, his voice was stern.

“You've got an hour. If you're not back by then, We'll break our way in somehow to get you.”

“Alright. Wish me luck.”

They heard the sound of his footsteps fading away, and shared a glance.

“I've got a feeling he's going to need it.”

***

Callum stood for a moment in the cool darkness, then, purpose pushing him forward, headed for the stairs. He allowed the silver-bladed sword to dissipate and sink back into the tattoo on his arm. Here, at the centre of things, he felt strangely unthreatened  - almost welcome. 

He began to climb the stairs, feeling the darkness edge around him. He paused, and looked up into the murkiness.

“I'm not here to hurt you. But I think we need to talk.”

He wasn't sure why he said it, but the shadows retreated at his words. His senses, heightened by both his blood and the adrenaline coursing through his veins, felt a change in the air. It was as if the entire house was holding its breath.

He climbed to the next floor, and began to walk along the landing. Suddenly, a room along the hallway blazed with light. He could hear the sound of laughter, and music. Warily, he walked towards the noise, muscles tensing to respond to any threat.

He glanced around the corner into the room. There was a tea party going on. He stepped inside, unseen by the party-goers, and moved into the corner to watch.

A young girl in a long blue dress was sat at the head of the table, he blonde hair piled up into elegant curls at the back of her head. Her smile lit up the room as she talked to the young man sat next to her. Callum tried to make out their conversation, but it was nothing of import – just the typical discussion of two young people getting to know each other.

The young woman's eyes suddenly locked onto him, and she frowned. The vision faded, leaving the room in semi-darkness.

Confused, he turned and headed for the landing again.

“It's strange how things start, isn't it Callum?”

He turned back slowly, his hand automatically reaching for the revolver at his hip. He lowered it as he saw the girl from the vision standing in the centre of the room.

“It's you, isn't it?” he said. 

“Some of me,” she said quietly, pushing a strand of blonde hair back from her face. “The best of me, maybe.”

“Is there any way you can stop this?” he asked. “People are getting hurt.”

Her eyes blazed with sudden fury.

“And why should I care?”

He raised an eyebrow, and shrugged.

“Because someone has to? Even if it has to be me.”

He walked over to her, and laid his hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly at his touch, and he pulled his hand away.

“Please, let me help.” He asked quietly.

She looked up at him sadly, and gestured at the room. It filled once more with people. This time she was dressed in white, and the centre of attention. The young man she'd been talking was in a suit next to her.

“This was my wedding day,” she said. “The happiest day of my life.” Her voice took on a mocking tone. “Gabriel was handsome, I felt beautiful, and it was supposed to be perfect.”

“So what happened?” Callum asked.

“I did,” came a second voice. He glanced over the girl's shoulder. In the corner, a second girl stood, dressed in deep crimson.

He expression was flat, her face bowed forward to cast her hair across her face. Her eyes stared out at Callum.

“And you would be?” 

“The other part of her.” She gestured at the girl in white. “The part that people don't like.” She walked out of the corner, and pointed at the table in the middle of the room. The scene changed from the wedding party to a scene of chaos.

The girl was sat shaking at the centre of the table, her hands wrapped around her head.

“Stop them!” She screamed.

Her husband looked at her in contempt.

“Stop what? There's nothing here!”

“There are people in here! I can hear them talking!”

Her husband rolled his eyes.

“This is getting rather tiresome, dear. Your parents may have been willing to put up with this nonsense, but I am not.”

He turned and walked out of the room. The girl continued to sit at the table, her eyes wild. The scene faded.

“At first, he just ignored it. Then he tried to beat it out of me. And eventually...”

The scene changed again, and this time the girl was sat in a chair at the side, her face a blank mask. A servant was spoon feeding her soup. Her husband looked on in contempt, a sneer written across his face.

“He broke you?” Callum said in horror.

“Eventually everything breaks.”

The Dragon-Blood looked around, his expression flat.

“Is he here.”

She smiled grimly.

“Oh yes, he's here.”

***

The three of them walked up the next flight of stairs, and Callum paused. He could smell blood. He glanced sharply at the young women, who shrugged.

“When you're done with him, I'll be waiting upstairs, in the attic.” She smiled a hurt little smile. “That's where all the unwanted things go.”

She turned and walked up the next flight, leaving Callum standing on the landing. He walked towards the study door, and pushed it open.

The thing inside may have once been human, but no longer. Now, it was skin stretched wide like a blanket. On one side of the room was a pair of lungs, on another, a heart. And to Callum's horror, the heart was beating, all connected by a spiders web of veins and intestines.

The thing that had once been a man was still truly, horrifyingly alive.

A pair of eyes, dangling from the ceiling, swivelled to look at him.

“Help... me...”

The words came as a hiss from different corners of the room. Callum looked into the dangling eyes, saw the pain deep within them.

“You're her husband, aren't you?” He asked flatly.

“Yes... She is mad... Help me...”

“Did you ever try and help her?”

The question hung in the air between them. The eyes slowly rotated.

“Couldn't... too much...”

“Too much what? Embarrassment? Shame?” Callum snarled.

He was being unfair. He knew it, but anger filled him.

“People have died because of all this,” he said.

“Important...?”

“Not really. Poor people, rich people... they've all died. And you had a hand in it. All because you didn't think to help your own wife. I saw it in your eyes in those visions. You were thinking about things like social standing. Did you even love her?” He snarled the words, his rage pouring between clenched teeth. “Did you? Or was it all a game to you? Just another move up the ladder?”