“Thank you, Tommy Atkins,” said Kim. “Always nice to meet a ghost with manners.”
* * *
The door closed firmly behind them, and the Ghost Finders huddled together, looking around a small room not much bigger than the average washroom. A single bare light bulb hung down, providing the only illumination. No furniture; no window; no other door. Happy looked at JC.
“So who was that, outside? Really?”
“He’s Tommy Atkins,” said JC. “Or at least I have been given no reason to believe otherwise. And no-one has ever got past him that shouldn’t have. Until now.”
“What do you mean?” said Melody. “We’re the good guys!”
“That’s not the point,” said Happy. “We are not officially supposed to be here, password or no, because the Boss didn’t specifically approve it. So who else might have got in here, on equally spurious grounds?”
“Still not talking to you,” said Melody.
Happy turned to JC. “Where do we go from here? I can’t See anything, with all these protections in place.”
“Probably because you’re looking in the wrong direction,” said JC.
He pointed down at the floor, where there was a large trap-door. JC leaned over, grabbed the heavy ring set into the trap-door, and hauled it open. He let it fall back onto the floor with a loud, echoing bang; and they all looked down into the dark opening. A heavy iron staircase went winding and spiralling down into the gloom.
“Down we go!” JC said cheerfully.
“You are definitely getting on my nerves,” said Melody. “I don’t care if Kim is back; it’s not natural to be that cheerful all the time.”
“I have defeated a living god, I am close to answers that have been kept from me, and my girl-friend has returned!” JC said grandly. “If I were any happier, I’d have to be more people.”
“You say the nicest things, JC,” said Kim.
Happy shuffled uneasily beside the dark opening. “That staircase does not look safe to me, JC. And God and the Boss alone knows how far down it goes. No; I am not going down that stairway without a parachute.”
“Go!” JC said firmly. “Be a brave little Ghost Finder, and there shall be Jaffa Cakes for tea. And tea!”
“After you,” said Happy, just as firmly.
JC stepped down onto the stairway with exaggerated calm and started down the spiralling iron steps. His feet clattered loudly on the bare metal, but the stairway didn’t shake in the least under his weight. Melody went down next, and Kim drifted down after her, leaving Happy standing alone in the room. He took out a pill box, looked at it for a long moment, then put it away again. He sighed loudly and went down after the others.
* * *
A pleasant glow with no obvious source surrounded the team as they descended. The light didn’t spread far, moving along with them as they went down and down, into darkness after darkness. JC peered over the top of his sunglasses from time to time, but even his altered eyes couldn’t pierce the dark beyond the stairs. JC carefully pushed his sunglasses back into place and glanced back up at Happy.
“Can you See anything out there, Happy?”
“Yes . . .” said Happy. “Enough to make me not want to See any more, so I’m going to stop looking. Trust me on this, JC; you don’t want to know. Some transitions are more distressing than others. Let’s just say . . . the Secret Libraries aren’t where we thought they were. You take me to the weirdest places.”
They carried on down the spiralling staircase, all of them being very careful to stay well away from the edges, which lacked any kind of railing. Kim got bored pretending to walk down and dropped quietly down through the open space in the middle, sticking close to JC. He’d already lost all track of how far down they’d come. His leg muscles had begun to seriously ache when a light suddenly flared up, and he stepped off the bottom of the staircase and onto solid floor. He stumbled away from the stairs to give the others room to get off, and looked around him.
He was standing in a huge underground cavern, packed with row upon row of tall, sturdy bookcases. A stone floor, and a stone ceiling high above. And book-shelves, book-shelves everywhere, stretching away further than the human eye could follow, in every direction JC could think of, plus a few more.
Melody and Happy stared about them with wide, hungry eyes, making Oooh! and Aaah! noises, both of them forgetting the sour moods they were supposed to be in. Kim laughed softly, clapping her hands silently together.
“So many secret places turn out to be something of a disappointment when you finally get to see them,” said JC. “But not this! It’s like they have every book in the world here, including all the ones that no-one’s supposed to have.”
Melody took hold of herself and sniffed loudly, striking a conspicuously unimpressed pose. “Who needs all these books? Why not put them all on e-files? Then there’d be no need for so much storage space.”
“Because you can’t hack books, of course,” Happy said witheringly. “If you want to know what’s in a particular volume of forbidden lore, you have to come down here in person, check out the book, and read it. Except you can’t because that isn’t allowed. Mostly.”
“What about remote viewing?” said Melody, to be stubborn.
“With the shields they’ve got in place here? Any wandering spirit that tried to sneak in here would get its ectoplasm kicked so thoroughly it would end up in another dimension, with its arse on fire. And besides, most of the books down here are so dangerous in their own right that they would deep-fry your brains inside your skull if you tried to read them without taking the proper precautions.” Happy paused. “Or so I’ve heard. There are an awful lot of stories about the Carnacki Institute’s Secret Libraries, and every single one of them contradicts all the others. Does your password give us access to everything, JC? Or should we lurk quietly to one side and not touch anything?”
“We can look at anything we want to, now we’re in,” said JC. “Or so I was given to understand.”
“And if you’re wrong?” said Melody.
“Listen for the bang,” said JC. “Ah, here comes the Librarian.”
They all turned to look as the current Librarian came strolling forward to meet them. Everyone in the team took their time looking him over because this particular individual was in fact an empty suit of rather old-fashioned clothes, inhabited by nothing obvious or indeed visible. There was clearly something inside the clothes from the way they bulged and moved and wrinkled. But nothing protruded from the starched collar or the stiff cuffs or the bottom of the trouser legs. There were also subtle and somewhat worrying indications that whatever was inside the clothes wasn’t necessarily, entirely, human. The clothes came to a halt in front of the team and struck a sort of respectful pose.
“Well, hello there!” said a dry, dusty voice from somewhere in the vicinity of the starched white collar. “Visitors! How very unexpected and unannounced! Don’t get many visitors these days since I put down the enchanted man-traps. And the head-eating things. Never can remember what they’re called . . . Anyway, nice to see you all! I’m in charge here, inasmuch as anyone is, or can be. I prefer to be called the Keeper of Secrets; but unfortunately that never caught on. Mostly, I’m called the Empty Librarian. Guess why? Never mind, never mind, moving on . . . How can I be of service to you good ladies and gentlemen?”
JC looked at the others, and the others looked right back at him, making it very clear they had no idea of what to say either and were therefore leaving it to the team leader. JC gave them all a cold glare that promised exacting retribution in the near future and turned back to the Empty Librarian.
“Pardon me, sir,” he said very politely, accompanied by his most winning smile. “But are you dead or alive?”
“Almost certainly, sir,” said the Empty Librarian.
“All right,” said JC. “Absolutely definitely moving on . . . I am here to inquire about whatever material you might have concerning the original Druids.”
�
��Hardly any, I’m afraid, sir,” said the Empty Librarian. “Given that the Druids possessed no written tradition of their own. Modern Druidry is a whole different thing, being mostly made up by a bunch of woolly-minded second-guessers.”
“Doesn’t anyone know anything about the original Druids?” said JC.
“You could always ask the Droods, sir . . .”
“I’d rather not,” said JC.
“Very wise, sir,” said the Empty Librarian. “Simply thinking about that horrible family is enough to make me mess my underwear. If I wore any.”
“Far too much information,” muttered Melody.
“We had an encounter with the ghost of the old god Lud,” said JC, talking quickly over Melody. “Down in London Undertowen.”
“Consider me officially impressed, sir,” said the Empty Librarian. “Did he have anything to say? I could always add another page to his official biography.”
“He said he wasn’t of this world, originally,” said JC. “That he came from another place, Outside our reality. And that there were others like him. One of whom recently reached down and made . . . alterations in me.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me at all, sir,” said the Empty Librarian. “You’re not the first visitor I’ve seen down here with eyes like those.”
JC knew a distraction when he heard one and shouldered it firmly to one side. “Have you any books on the subject of people being touched and changed by forces from Outside?”
“Stacks and stacks of the things, sir. Everything from the original Siggsand Manuscript to Jane’s Field Guide to Abominations from the Outer Rings. We used to have an illustrated edition of that last one, but it kept freaking people out, and I got fed up cleaning up after them. So now I only show it to people I don’t like. There are any number of very useful books on the subject, sir. However . . .”
“I just knew there was going to be an however,” said Happy. “Didn’t you just know there was going to be an however?”
“Shut up, Happy,” said JC.
“However,” said the Empty Librarian, firmly, “these are the kind of books where you have to study for years to be able to read them. Never mind understand them. Some scholars have been visiting here for years, working their way through a particular volume one page at a time. While making copious notes. And occasionally having to stand up face-to-face shouting arguments with other scholars over what it all really means. Fist-fights, head-butting matches, and rolling-around-on-the-floor biting contests were not uncommon until I got bored and started fining them body parts for each infraction. Nothing like losing the odd ear to calm someone down. In my experience, sir, you can’t get two of these so-called experts to agree on anything, where forces from Outside are involved. That’s Academe for you. Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”
“Yeah,” muttered Happy. “Because you’ve already been so helpful . . .”
“Shut up, Happy,” said JC. He gave the Empty Librarian his best determined smile. “How about . . . books on suddenly not being dead any longer?”
“Oh, there’s no shortage of those, sir,” said the Empty Librarian. “Most of them entirely contradictory, of course.”
“Of course,” said JC. “How about, more specifically, books on people dying, then being brought back again by forces from Outside?”
“Quite a lot of those, too, sir. Some days it seems like forces from Beyond can’t keep their hands off us. Hanging around our reality like ambulance-chasing lawyers. Or winos outside a bar, looking for a hand-out.”
“Is that what happened to you?” said Melody.
“Nothing happened to me, miss,” said the Empty Librarian.
Melody gave him a hard look, then decided to rise above it. “Do you have any computers here? Anything on-line I can look at?”
“Nothing like that in here, miss,” said the Empty Librarian. “The very idea . . . We are a Library; not a video arcade. We do have an Index you might find useful. Connected to every volume here, and voice-activated for easy use. If you’d like to follow me this way, miss . . .”
He shambled off, and the team hurried after him. Seen from the back, the empty suit of clothes appeared even more disturbing, if anything. The Empty Librarian led them through several sets of book-shelves, took a sharp left, and stopped abruptly. He waved an empty sleeve at an oversized volume set out on a gleaming brass reading stand. The book reminded JC of an old-fashioned family Bible. Someone had left it open, and the huge pages overflowed the sides of the reading stand. The Empty Librarian gestured for Melody to come forward and stand before the book.
“This is the Index for the entire Secret Libraries, miss. Like many useful things, it is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Thinking about that makes my head hurt, and I don’t even have a head. Blame the Travelling Doctor; he founded the Libraries, after all. Speak your wishes aloud, miss, and the Index will give you the name and location of the volume most likely to be of help. Do try to speak clearly. If you mumble, the Index gets confused, then people shout at it, and I have to put up with its sulking, afterwards.”
“Got it,” said Melody. “Now go away and help the others. I don’t like people peering over my shoulder.”
“Of course, miss. I feel the same way. And I don’t even know who’s down here to peer over my shoulder . . .”
The Empty Librarian led the rest of the team away. Melody glared at the Index.
“What have you got on strange occurrences down in the London Underground railway system? Ancient and modern? I want book titles, and a précis, if possible.”
The heavy pages fluttered quickly back and forth before her, so fast the print became a blur, then stopped abruptly to show her a double-page spread of book titles, complete with every detail, and a précis. Melody sniffed loudly, to make it clear she wasn’t going to be impressed that easily, and leaned eagerly forward to work her way through the various entries. It soon became apparent to Melody that there was no shortage of books on the subject: private and personal and professional. Strange sightings, encounters with ghosts and demons, weird happenings, and alien encounters. Reports of strange things went all the way back to when the first railway tunnels were dug out of the earth under London. Interestingly, though, there were no reports of any encounters with the old catacombs of London Undertowen. Which confirmed what Melody had already suspected—that the Undertowen wasn’t necessarily, literally, underneath London itself any longer. Melody turned her search to those volumes dealing with intrusions into the Tube system from Outside and was genuinely shocked at how many books there were on the subject. The Empty Librarian had been right; whatever happened to JC was neither a new nor a rare thing . . .
Melody asked the Index on where these books could be found and received her second shock. According to the notes that appeared on the pages before her, each and every one of these books had been recently removed from the Secret Libraries. On the orders of Catherine Latimer.
Melody called the Empty Librarian back to her, in a loud and carrying voice. He came striding through the stacks, his empty suit of clothes positively radiating outrage at being summoned in such a peremptory manner; but when Melody showed him how many books were missing, he was genuinely shocked and appalled.
“But this . . . this is simply not allowed! Books are never taken out of the Secret Libraries, under any circumstances! And I can tell you for a fact, miss, Catherine Latimer has not paid a visit down here in over a year. Whoever removed these books may have done so in her name, but she did not do it herself. More importantly . . . I have no record, and no memory, of these books’ leaving the Libraries. And I am always here! I do not sleep, I do not rest, and I never turn aside from my duties. Though I am forced to admit . . . this is not the first time such a thing has happened.” He leaned in close for a conspiratorial murmur, his empty collar close to her ear. “More and more, I get the feeling . . . that I am not alone down here.”
“Okay,” said Melody. “Let’s concentrate on the missing books
, shall we? Look at the details set out in the Index; do you by any chance remember the contents of these books? What they were about?”
“Of course, miss!” said the Empty Librarian. “I have read every book in the Secret Libraries! Not much else to do down here, you understand . . . That title, there, was a detailed account by a young Institute field agent, on how she was attacked on a mission in the Underground, and how Something from Outside intervened to save her. I had the honour of speaking with this remarkable young lady on several occasions. Her eyes glowed like Mr. Chance’s until she learned to control it.”
“Who was this?” said Melody. “Do you remember her name?”
“Of course,” said the Empty Librarian. “It was Catherine Latimer.”
* * *
Sometime later, the Empty Librarian escorted Happy deep into the stacks, to the Acquisitions Suite. Not books, but rather Items of Special Interest that had been gifted to the Carnacki Institute, down the years. Basically, the Suite was an open space set aside to hold several rows of display cases, of varying size, with solid steel and silver surrounds and heavily reinforced glass. Containing things, objects, and general weird shit that had proved important or significant in the past. Happy looked them over dubiously.
“So these are all the important bits and pieces the Institute has gathered to itself, apart from those the Boss keeps in her office?”
“Exactly, sir,” said the Empty Librarian. “All Heads of the Institute like to hang on to reminders of their own time out in the field. Until they retire, and it all ends up down here. In the end, everything turns up down here, one way or another. There was a move, some years back, to have all dead field agents buried down here, as a security measure. But that was considered disrespectful. To the books. Some of them are very sensitive, sir.”
Happy nodded in a way he hoped indicated he neither believed nor disbelieved what he was hearing. He waited until the Empty Librarian had moved off before moving slowly up and down between the rows of display cases, studying their contents thoughtfully, while being very careful to touch nothing. Most of the items on display were simply . . . objects, presumably of some importance at some time but now without even a name or case history attached. Only an Index number. A single marble finger, a brass mezzotint, a bottle of comet wine, and a stuffed cat’s head with three eyes and drooping whiskers. A few still had names, or titles: The Merovingian Crown, Cardinal Woolsey’s Scrapbook, The Doom That Came To Liverpool, The Sword Sacnoth.
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