by D P Wright
“Fair enough.” Kessler put the vial back in his pocket and took out more credits, “This should be enough.”
“A thousand thanks.” He walked away cradling the cred close to his chest and spoke without turning around to face them, his gurgled voice disappearing into the darkness of the adjoining room, “Just follow the stairs up to your rooms. Not much I’m afraid but they’re clean.”
The three climbed up the creaking steps at the back of the room, the flimsy metal frame swaying under their weight. Two doors greeted them on the first floor across a small landing. Bethany turned to look at her two companions, “I’ll see you in the morning then.” She stood in the open doorway, her deep green eyes now heavy with sleep and jet black hair still damp from the rain, “Thank you both for being here, helping me,” she spoke softly and smiled, “St John’s may have turned to rubble but its spirit lives on in us.” She nodded at Doc and Kessler before turning to go into the bedroom and closing the door behind her.
“Looks like I’m sharing with you, Doc.” He gave Doc a hard pat on the back.
“You like her don’t you? That’s why we are down here? That’s why I am risking my life…”
“No.” Kessler interrupted, “You know why we’re here and know why I cannot go back up city empty handed.”
“Well, keep your mind on the case and not her.” Kessler pushed Doc out of the way and opened the door to their room.
Two roughly-made beds, their simple metal frames flaking with rust, separated by a plastic table, greeted them as they entered. A copy of the Council Protocols lay on the table’s surface by a flickering chemical lamp. Doc threw his bag to the floor, rested his rifle on his bed and stood against the far wall, his hands on his hips. “Well this just will not do. Have these sheets been washed? If they have, what water have they been using? There is not even a rec vent in the place to clean the air.” He sighed, “Everything is filthy.”
“You’ve slept in worse. Don’t pretend I don’t know.”
Doc looked down at his feet and shook his head, “Yes. Well, I’m just concerned about our health. We could catch all manner of ills from these covers. This place is infested with all kinds of bacteria. Disease and infection lurk everywhere.” He stammered as he rummaged through his bag and from it took out a small canister and began to spray his bed. Once finished he held it out towards Kessler, “Disinfectant. I suggest you use it.”
The detective ignored him, took off his holster and threw his Luther on his bed. There was a small washbasin just to the left of the door which he eagerly approached but, after hitting the button repeatedly, heard the disappointing loud gurgle of thick black soup struggling to escape the pipes. Leaning against the wall, he sighed, “I need a wash.”
“Well after seeing how grubby the proprietor of this establishment is I wouldn’t have held out much hope.” Doc had taken off his shirt and, after folding it neatly and placing it on the bedside table, took out a nightshirt from his bag and pulled it over his bony frame.
“What did you think of Beck Goodfellow?” Kessler spoke as he sat down on his bed and began to take off his boots.
“I don’t know. The simple innkeeper, as he calls himself, seems alright for a Mute but I don’t think there is anything simple whatsoever about that creature.” Doc put down a blanket that he had taken from his bag and gingerly laid it down, making sure he did not come into contact with the bed covers. He shuddered.
Kessler’s sleep-deprived gaze went from the fretting doctor to the half-open door and the hallway beyond, his mind whirling, despite his tiredness, over what lay ahead. He rubbed his sore feet for a few moments before laying down on the stiff mattress. His clothes felt greasy and he could feel them rubbing against him as the rot from the rain filled the room with its thick odour. However, the discomfort of not being able to wash his clothes or bathe himself was overcome with the satisfaction of rest. “This has been a long time coming,” Kessler spoke out loud. “Thanks for helping out, Doc. Listen when we get topside again we can…” the low rumbling of the doctor’s snoring interrupted the detective, he turned and could see Doc lying on his back with his eyes closed. He held his spectacles in one hand and, after a few moments, they limply fell from his loose grip onto the floor. Doc slept in his delicate purple nightshirt and, as the chemical smell of his disinfectant reached him, he thought how out of place his companion was this far down city.
As Kessler drifted off to sleep he glanced Doc’s Lazarus rifle with his hand still resting on the barrel. His final thoughts before unconsciousness took hold were of the doctor, he had not changed that much after all.
A SURPRISE IN THE NIGHT
Kessler woke with a start and immediately sat up on his elbows gasping for breath. He wiped pouring sweat from his brow and blinked through the haze of tiredness to try and get his bearings. The chemical lamp still flickered on the bedside table, throwing shadows across the small room and Doc, still in his slumber, moaned and rolled around twisted in his bed sheets as if fighting against some unknown terror. Kessler reached out for his inhaler and took a hit as Doc let out another frantic groan.
“Hey, Doc, take it easy.” Kessler rolled out of bed and knelt by Doc’s side and, taking hold of his shoulder, spoke again, “Hey, hey, you’re going to do yourself an injury.”
Doc’s face turned and his eyes opened wide, twitching manically, “No!”
“Calm down. It’s just a nightmare. Here,” Kessler offered him his inhaler, “take a hit.”
Doc stared blankly at Kessler for a few moments blinking, his eyes wide with fear, before inhaling the Ox and, eventually, steadying his breathing. “Sorry,” he gasped, “I… I just… just need a drink of water.”
Kessler leaned across to his bag, took out a hydration pouch and gave it to Doc who eagerly drank from it, “I’m going to see if Beck is still awake and run over a few things about our journey.”
Doc reached out for his spectacles and, after a few moments of blindly flailing around, Kessler passed them to him. The doctor peered up at him through his yellow lenses, “It appears sleep is evading us all.” He took another drink, a calm expression slowly returning to his face, before speaking again, “When you see Beck ask him about clean water for bathing, this place is filthy.” Doc pulled the covers over him and turned onto his side, “Good night.”
Outside the room, the hallway was shrouded in darkness and Kessler had to gingerly make his way down the creaking steps. Downstairs, a single lamp flickered weakly in the centre of the table where the half-empty bowls of broth and tankards still had not been cleared away. The light threw shadows across the outlandish shapes that were piled high along the sides of the room and the only sound, besides the constant dull patter of the rain outside, was a low, methodical hum of machinery which could be heard coming from somewhere down below.
Following the muffled buzz and clatter, Kessler walked down more stairs into a basement where he came across a small generator which hissed and whirled. Wires led from the machine to a closed door under which a pale light could be seen. He knocked loudly, “Hey Beck, you in there? I know it’s late but I just need to go over a few things with you.” Inside the room a sharp static sound was followed by cursing and a loud banging noise. Kessler opened the door to see Beck hunched over a desk, one hand smashing a receiver against a table, the other holding a small chem lamp which gave out very little light.
“Damn machine!”
“Mind if I have a word?”
The innkeeper turned around with a start and dropped the com to the floor. He held up the lamp, adjusted his optic array and stuttered, “Mr Kessler, what’re you doing up? You’ve such a busy day ahead of you and should be resting.” He mumbled to himself and rubbed his long sweaty neck.
“Having trouble with your com system?”
“Yes, it’s an ancient piece of hardware and you cannot get a signal down here at the best of times.” He walked towards Kessler making the detective take a step back towards the door. “Just trying to get a
couple of the more outlandish items your doctor friend requested.” A red light flashed in the corner. Beck again moved forward forcing Kessler back yet another step, “Apologies for the lack of light, the generator is very expensive to run, I only use it to power the coms when I need it. So, what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to know exactly how you plan on getting us down to D5? Jimmy said you knew of a safe passage that would not attract any unwanted attention.”
“Yes, yes it’s all in hand. You’ve not to worry. Now I really must get back, it is late and I have a lot to do.”
“Are you going to take us there yourself?” Kessler pressed on with his questions.
“Of course. An entrance to an old service tunnel. It’s a very simple journey down from there.” He juddered with a twitching energy, smiled and bowed, pointing to the door suggesting that the conversation was over.
“Beck, I didn’t want to mention this in front of the others but I would like you to add something else to my list, something that I would like you to keep to yourself.” Kessler looked at the innkeeper, his gloss black optics reflecting the sickly glow of the chem lamp, his damp, pale skin shimmering with sweat, “Can you get your hands on any sim? I know you said that you didn’t know anything about such things but surely there is some Dreg around here who can get their hands on some? Just something light?”
“Ah Mr Kessler I certainly can, the best in the business, in fact, if you have the cred that is?” His frantic nature now completely gone replaced by a more relaxed, confident tone. His hands became steady and his muttering changed to the smile he wore so well before.
“Yes, but only something light,” Kessler repeated, “and none of this Lux stuff that’s going around. Just something to keep me going, to keep my edge.”
“Of course.” He bowed even lower than before, holding out an open hand awaiting payment. He looked up at Kessler with his broad grin.
The detective took from his pocket ten creds. “This should be enough.” It was the going rate for a couple of hits of sim up town, this far down it would be more than enough for what he wanted. Beck took the cred and immediately put them in his pocket, “Aren’t you going to count?”
“It’s enough,” Beck hissed. “Mr Kessler, from the moment I saw you I knew you were a man that appreciated the finer things in life and I have just the chem for you.” He placed the lamp on the desk and rummaged around in the front of his poncho, “I must apologise for not being entirely truthful to you earlier on. Dealing sim is a dangerous business.” He produced a syringe filled with a dark liquid.
“Do you not have any caps? I don’t want to inject.”
“I can assure you that it’s perfectly safe.”
“What is it? It’s very dark.”
“Like I said, the best.” Beck smiled back.
Kessler took hold of the syringe, his hand shaking in anticipation, rolled up his sleeve and found a vein. Beck stood close, staring, both hands clasped tightly as the detective began to press the needle down hard onto his skin. The noise from Beck’s ancient com and generator disappeared as Kessler focused on the shaking needle. His heart seemed to beat to the sound of the chem lamp whose flames danced casting seductive shadows making the room seem to move.
An explosive clatter from upstairs shocked Kessler from his concentration and Beck jumped back with a squeal knocking over the lamp and sending its burning liquid across the floor. Immediately, through the blaze of flames, light pierced the darkness revealing the walls of the room, every part of which was covered, hacked and slashed into the old stonework, the words that had followed him throughout this case, words that had haunted him in his sleep. ‘Lux Ferre.’
Kessler stumbled back falling to the floor as Beck lunged for him, a large syringe held tightly in his grip. Another explosion thundered up above as Beck landed on the detective who just had the time to grab hold of his hand as its needle bore down on him. Beck’s gills flared as he hissed, “Join us!”
With his free hand, Kessler landed a punch square to the side of Beck’s head sending him flying to the floor. The innkeeper gave a squeal as he held his head in his hands. His optics lay shattered on the floor and he now looked at Kessler through eyes the detective had seen before. Pitch black, they reflected the fire which was consuming the room.
Kessler leapt up the stairs and onto the hallway just as another flash and crack thundered from his room. The heat from the rifle blast greeted him as he bounded through the door to a scene of complete chaos. Doc wrestled with two creatures, both trying to get a grip on his rifle. They had not seen Kessler yet so he leapt towards his bed and rummaged around in the low light desperately trying to find his Luther.
Doc howled, “For light’s sake, get them off me!” He clattered off the bed with a hard thud in an entangled mass of bodies.
A burst of white light enveloped the room for a split second throwing vicious shadows onto the walls as Doc’s rifle exploded just by Kessler’s ear sending him spinning. The detective’s head whirled in agony but through the pain and just as the last of the light was fading he caught sight of his carbine and grabbed it, immediately bringing it to bear on Doc and his two assailants. All three were a dark mass of fists, teeth, claws and feet. Kessler fired into the melee and an ear piercing shriek followed. One of the creatures lay lifeless on the floor, the other quickly released Doc and scampered away on all fours, howling as it went. Kessler got up and ran for Bethany’s room.
An overturned lamp threw yellow light over the chaos. A table and chair were upended, the bed sheets strewn over the room and a window to the right of the doorway was broken. The smell from the rain mixed with his Luther’s burnt plasma and the bitter metallic smoke discharged from Doc’s rifle. There was no sign of Bethany.
Kessler, panting hard and trying to catch his breath, walked up to the broken window, leaned out and stared into the gloom of Baron’s Town. From the light of a swaying street lamp all Kessler could see was the empty road and the rivers of water streaming down the huge drains on either side. After a few moments he went back inside and surveyed the chaos of the room. He cursed out loud and punched the wall. She was gone. A fit of coughing took hold of him.
Eventually the spasm eased and he opened his eyes to see a tiny glint of light catch his attention. Her uncle’s cross had fallen down by the window, its silver finish now splattered red. Kessler dabbed it with his finger.
“What have you found?” Doc stood in the doorway holding his still-smoking rifle. The words battled to escape his violent gasps as he sucked down hard on an inhaler. His pale scrawny legs, underwear and dishevelled nightshirt made him look like anything but the man who had fought off two assailants moments before.
“Beth’s cross covered in blood.” Kessler slicked back his hair away from his eyes and held up the necklace for the doctor to inspect, “They’ve taken her.”
Doc slumped against the door post and put his glasses on. His face was bloodied and his left eye already swelling, a deep dark purple bruise taking hold. “Then this, whatever this is, is over.” He coughed and returned to their room.
Kessler took a brief look at the necklace, dropped it into his pocket and ran down the stairs to where he had left Beck. A concern briefly entered his head that he had scarpered during the fight but this worry was quickly laid to rest as, through the thick fog of black smoke, Beck, with a canister of safety foam, had just got the fire under control.
Beck immediately dropped the canister and ran at the detective, flailing manically with a large knife. Kessler easily avoided the wild lunges, stepped to the side and kicked the innkeeper hard in the stomach wrenching the knife from his grasp all in one swift movement. “You’re coming with me.” He picked up Beck and slung his small body over his shoulder. He screamed and Kessler smashed his face with his fist, “Shut up.” The squirming stopped and Beck went limp.
Kessler arrived back at his room to see Doc leaning over the still body of one of his attackers. He threw Beck onto his bed where h
e landed with a squeal, hitting his head against the wall. Doc looked up at the innkeeper and then glanced at Kessler before returning to his examination.
The detective pointed his Luther at Beck, “You stay there and not a damn word or you will end up like your friend here.” He kicked the corpse to emphasise his point. Beck curled up in the corner, rubbed his bloody nose and sobbed quietly to himself.
“So what have you found?” Kessler kneeled down beside Doc, still aiming his carbine menacingly at Beck.
Adjusting his specs, Doc popped a couple of pills and gingerly prodded his swollen eye before speaking, “Well I have never seen anything quite like it.” A purple robe with hood lay in a pile on the floor, the material was soft, like velvet. “Look,” Doc picked up the robe from a pool of thick black blood revealing a shrivelled body, “it’s as if all the life had been sucked out of it. Whatever it is.” Its eyes were jet black as were the shiny scales which covered its body and its teeth and claws were yellowed and razor sharp. A long thin tail protruded from the cloak, ending in a sharp point. There was an intense sickly sweet smell that seemed to stick to anything that touched the body making Kessler retch and stagger back. “Truly a monster. Some type of beast or mutant, maybe?”
Kessler coughed, “I have smelt this stench before, back in Judecca’s place in Nimrod Heights. Those black eyes seem to be a side effect of doing Lux, Judecca had them as well as our friend here.” Kessler waved his Luther at Beck who was still whimpering to himself. Doc looked up from his bandages to see the innkeeper’s big, glistening black eyes peer out at him from a tear-stained face. “One more thing. Those words, ‘Lux Ferre,’ they follow me around. First in the priest’s study, then Judecca’s place and now downstairs. Its scrawled all over the walls.” Kessler leaned closer to Doc and spoke in a low whisper, “It’s in my dreams as well.” Doc nodded slowly as Kessler spoke and lifted his bloodied purple nightshirt to reveal three long slash marks that flared with a deep red on his pale skin, blood slowly seeping from the wound. “Looks sore. Better clean it out and get a bandage on that, quick.”