The Constantine Affliction (34 page)

“I have not had that pleasure.”

“I have,” Freddy said. “The water teems with life—strange creatures, with limbs like hairs, flailing flagella, tiny beasts that devour one another.”

“Oh, yes,” Carrington said. “Sir Bertram made similar observations, and he began to wonder, if there is such a
micro
world, a place of whirling ferocity beneath our notice, its denizens ignorant of our very existence—was it possible that there was a
larger
world, inhabited by creatures so much vaster than ourselves that they, too, were effectively invisible to us? Creatures who would view
us
much as we view amoebae through a magnifying lens? He began to investigate the idea, building exploratory apparatus that, frankly, far exceed my technical understanding. And he
found
them, out there beyond the stars—in the same way
we
are beyond a drop of pond water under a microscope. The next step was to call the attention of those creatures. His first experiment… did not go well, and its aftereffects are still visible to any who care to look, though none recognize their import.”

“The
aurora anglais
,” Ellie said.

“He broke the sky,” Carrington said, almost dreamily. “That setback only energized him, though, and he later learned the secret to opening portals to that distant realm, and observing the creatures therein. Apparently just as all matter is an illusion composed mostly of empty space, all
scale
is just a matter of perception too, and those vast creatures can be brought down to a… more manageable size. Small enough to enter our world, in fact.”

“And these creatures are monsters?” Ellie said.

“Oh, they might seem so to our eyes. They are inhuman, certainly. Vast, in their own world. Sir Bertram says we can perceive only a small part of their bodies, that portion which intrudes into our gross physical world. He thinks
all
the manifestations he’s witnessed of these creatures may be segments of a single vast entity, and that the individual ‘creatures’ only appear to have independence because we cannot comprehend the connections between them—much as an ant might think a man’s middle toe and the same man’s eyeball were unrelated objects. These creatures inhabit other dimensions, ones we cannot perceive, he says…” Carrington sighed. “He says a great many things, restating wisdom long known to adherents of certain secret religions, transforming the poetry of faith into terribly dry scientific terminology. I confess, it took some effort to guide Sir Bertram toward the desired outcome. He was reluctant, at first, despite my urgings. He was afraid he would be unable to control the creatures if he allowed them entry to our world. But I convinced him nothing was beyond his power.”

Ellie’s stomach roiled. “Speak plainly, sir. Why did you try to influence Oswald to undertake this course of action?”

“Some people have known of the existence of these creatures for years. For
centuries
. My own family belongs to a sect devoted to bringing about the coming of these creatures, and we have been about our work for generations. Oswald is not the first to discover their existence. Certain standing stones in the countryside were erected in order to open passageways for them, brief portals that appear only during rare astronomical alignments. Sometimes the portals open in the deep sea, and a few of these old gods—for, understand me, they
are
as gods to us—slip through, and dwell for years in the deeps. They are the source of most tales of sea serpents, you see, though they cannot live long in our world. Not as our world is
now
, that is—but they could make certain changes, and transform our Earth into a habitation more hospitable to them… if rather less so for us. But Sir Bertram truly
is
a genius, at least by human standards, and he has developed the means to create more stable portals, which may be opened at will, and which can allow larger intrusions. Once the old gods can reach into our world whenever they wish, they can send in a few of their numbers—or their
fingers—
to subdue mankind, and then alter our world to suit their own purposes. After that they can arrive en masse, having cleared their new home of vermin—much as a human might level a forest and burn out a mound of ants and exterminate a colony of rats in order to build a new house on clean ground. Their world is
full
, you see, they are crammed together there like lengths of firewood stacked for the winter, and they wish to come
here
, where they may stretch their terrible limbs.”

“I have heard of such cults,” Ellie said. “Fools wearing robes, drinking blood and chanting incomprehensible syllables under bridges, all while gazing dumbly up at the stars.”

“Call us fools if you like,” Carrington said equably. “Our gods are on the verge of arrival—I daresay I can withstand a few more days of your contempt. Oswald thinks he knows how to control the creatures, because I led him to believe that, and contrived situations where he could influence their behavior, using knowledge passed down through my family. But when Oswald opens a portal tonight to frighten the populace, he will find his techniques fail, and he will be devoured along with the rest. Consuming hundreds is just how our gods say
hello
. Fear not. His great dome will never be built.”

“I confess some confusion as to why you would choose to worship such creatures,” Pimm said, remarkably calmly, Ellie thought. “The Church of England only wants me to
tithe
, but you willingly serve a church that requires you to be devoured?”

“Oh, our gods will need servants, but even their servants will be as
kings
to the rest of humanity,” Carrington said. “The transformation of our world—our
universe
—into a suitable habitation for their kind will not be accomplished quickly, and they will require local assistance. Those of us so favored will be raised high, to rule among the others of our kind.”

“To rule as head dog in a pack of pets, you mean,” Winnie said.

“Just so,” Carrington said. “But everyone is
someone’s
dog. At least I shall have the most powerful masters.” He began to chew on his lower lip, drawing blood, and Ellie wondered if he’d gone suddenly mad.

“We will accept no threat to our sovereignty!” the Queen thundered.

“I wouldn’t worry, Your Majesty,” Pimm said. “As Miss Skyler says, these are the prattlings of known cultists and lunatics, and there is no truth or substance to them—”

Carrington spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “There,” he said, blood running down his chin. “It seems like magic, I know, but it’s not—the area has been primed already, this is where Oswald did his first experiments. The cages where we locked you up were used to house the first creatures that… came through. That bit of blood on the floor just serves to call their attention, just as blood in the open ocean can draw the attention of sharks.” A strange humming sound filled the air, accompanied by a smell like burning lavender, and a change in pressure, like the sudden onset of a storm, but even swifter and more profound.

“Prepare to meet your new masters,” Carrington said. “And, shortly after, to meet your maker.” He cackled as the air around them tore itself apart.

An Uncouth Beast

P
imm grabbed Ellie by the hand and dragged her away. His hair was standing on end, floating about his head in a cloud, and Ellie thought her own hair must be doing the same. Ben roared and stumbled toward Carrington, then staggered back as what seemed to be a net of lightning wove itself around the man as he laughed on. Once they drew away from the chair, the air pressure seemed to return to normal, with the frenzy of sparks and strange odors seemingly confined to a circle some ten feet across, not quite centered on their captive. Even the terrible, head-filling humming noise was diminished once they stepped away from that circle. Carrington’s mad laughter, alas, was just as loud as ever. “What is
happening
?” Ben cried, looking about him, perhaps trying to find an enemy he could actually fight.

“I fear exactly this is exactly what Carrington promised,” Pimm answered, one hand in his pocket, doubtless touching some weapon or another. Ellie wished fiercely for pockets of her own, and pistols to put in them. “Some beast is being summoned, or revealed, or translated to this world.”

Winnie had leapt away from the chair as soon as Carrington spat blood on the floor, and now prowled around the edge of the disturbance, her head darting this way and that, tearing tarps off of piles of crates, prodding piles of metal with Pimm’s spent walking stick.

“Freddy!” Pimm called. “What are you doing, and can we help?”

“There must be machinery!” she called. “Projectors, or engines, or
something
, the blood may have triggered this, but all this chaos is coming from
somewhere
—Ah ha!” She shoved aside a few loose boards and tore away a dropcloth to reveal a surprisingly delicate contraption the approximate dimensions of a hatrack, made of curved brass metal, glass tubes, and odd crystalline protrusions—though the crystals were not purple, fortunately, only milky white. Up close, the thing buzzed like a beehive, a sound that made the small hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck seem to vibrate. “Smash it up!” she shouted, and Ben, clearly aware that such destruction was his metier, picked up a length of broken wood and proceeded to lay about the contraption, shattering crystals and warping metal, making a terrible racket. The buzzing hum first stuttered, then lowered in pitch, then ceased entirely.

Winnie grinned savagely at Carrington. “There, you see? It’s far more difficult to
build
things than it is to destroy them.”

Carrington chuckled. His hair still stood on end, giving him the appearance of a demented dandelion. “Well done. You closed the door. Of course, you also destroyed the magnetic containment field. Not all cages are made of iron bars, you see—after certain ugly incidents following the initial summonings, Sir Bertram invented a sort of magnetic pentacle to hold the beasts in place, better than iron can. Anyway, you were too late. I am reminded of a certain proverb about closing a barn door after the horse has already—”

Something lashed out from the darkness, a slick shadow that moved with the blurring speed of a hummingbird’s wings, and Carrington’s head vanished in a burst of red, like a tomato struck by a bullet. They all stared as the headless body slumped to one side in the chair, but remained held upright by the ropes. Off in the dark, something moved across the floor, making a sound like fish flopping in the bottom of a boat, and the squelch of boots in mud, and the patter of rain on a roof, and the mewl of a gravely-injured kitten—and other sounds beside.

Pimm edged behind a stack of crates, beyond the limits of the pool of light, and gestured for the others to join him. They did, though the Queen came slowly, and with exaggerated dignity. “I think—” Pimm began, and the shadow lashed out again, smashing one of the crates into flying splinters. They all hunched and huddled, behind what remained of the barrier of crates, waiting silently, but the thing did not attack again.

“I don’t know if it sees us,” Ellie whispered. “But it seems to
hear
us.”

“Can we kill it?” Ben asked, his own voice hoarse and low.

“The things in the Thames have been killed,” Ellie said. “By guns and bludgeons and axes. My paper ran an engraving of one, or part of one—the creature came apart in the water like a rotten cabbage when the boatmen tried to pull it out, and all that remained was a bit of ragged tentacle. If they are truly the same sort of creatures, then yes, this one is mortal.”

“Hunting it would be easier if we could see,” Pimm whispered.

“It’s a shame you didn’t bring the monocle I made you,” Winnie said.

Pimm looked at her blankly, then closed his eyes for a moment. He patted his vest pocket. “Ah. I do. I have it here.”

Winnie rolled her eyes. “It might have done you some good earlier, don’t you think?”

“You are right, as always, dear wife.” He screwed the lens—tinted strangely green, Ellie noted—over his right eye, closed his left eye, and peered around the edge of the crates. He drew his head back, face pale. “It’s… bigger than the things in the Thames. The size of an elephant, easily.”

“What does that lens do?” Ellie asked.

“Lets me see in the dark,” Pimm said. “One of Freddy’s inventions, some chemical trapped between two pieces of glass. Remarkable, really. Though it makes everything a sort of ghastly green color.”

“Our fighting men could make great use of such a device,” the Queen said.

“I suppose I have to hunt the beast, don’t I?” Pimm said. “Heavens. I hunt
criminals
, of course, but in practice, that usually means I just point out their whereabouts to the police.”

“I will assist you,” Ben said. “I can distract the thing, at least.”

“You may all assist me—excepting of course Your Majesty,” Pimm said. He reached into his pocket and removed a handkerchief, unwrapping it to reveal a pair of rounded, off-white objects that might have been bird’s eggs. “Freddy, would you mind showing Ellie and Ben how these work?”

“Oh, how lovely,” Winnie said. “You brought my favorite things.” She held up one of the eggs. “This, my friends, is a pocket distraction. The alchemical fluids that light our lamps are quite stable, but with a few…. alterations… they can be made more volatile. I’ve sealed a bit of the altered fluid inside these hollow clay balls. Simply throw them against a hard surface with sufficient force to smash them apart—it takes a bit of effort, I didn’t want them breaking in Pimm’s pockets so they’re fairly thick—and you will be rewarded by a
most
unpleasant burst of noise and light.” She grinned. “I call them ‘bangers and flash.’”

“I’ll go
this
way,” Pimm said, pointing left, “and you lot go
that
way, and fling the bangers at the wall, get the beastie’s attention.”

“And what will you do?” Ellie asked.

“Shoot it,” Pimm said. “And if that fails, Ben can beat it to death with that length of wood he found. Seems straightforward enough, eh?”

Ellie put a hand on his arm. “Pimm.
Do
be careful.”