“‘Your Outer Darkness sounds remarkably like what we experience when we get too close to that box, does it not?’
“I was starting to become afraid that he was all too close to the truth.”
c
“The carriage returned in the early hours of the morning. Gault asked if I was ready to start, and I assented. I knew I would get no sleep until I had banished the memory of the reverberating echo. And in truth, I was somewhat excited, eager to return to the hold armed with my defenses and ready to penetrate the secrets that might be revealed by the thing in the casket. I lifted the box containing my protections from where Gault’s man had left it by the door and went down into the darkness of the hold.
“Gault led me down, carrying a lantern to show me the way, but he stayed back as I prepared the defensive circles.
“I started by drawing a circle of chalk, taking care never to smudge the line as I navigated my way around the hold. Beyond this I rubbed a broken garlic clove in a second circle around the first.
“When this was done, I took a small jar of water that had been blessed by a priest and went round the circle again just inside the line of chalk, leaving a wet trail that dried quickly behind me. Within this inner circle I made my pentacle using the signs of the Saaamaaa Ritual, and joined each Sign most carefully to the edges of the lines I had already made.
“In the points of the pentacle I placed five portions of bread wrapped in linen, and in the valleys five small bottles of the holy water. Now I had my first protective barrier and with this first stage complete the hold, now protected as it was by the most basic of spells, already felt more secure.
“I have told you chaps enough tales by now for you to know what I did next. I will not bore you with my reasons for utilizing the increased protection provided by my electric pentacle, for you know that it has saved me many times already, and proves most efficacious against even the most cunning of apparitions. I set the mechanism to overlay the drawn pentagram upon the floor. When I connected up the battery, an azure glare shone from the intertwining vacuum tubes, sending dancing shadows along the length of the boat.
“I was ready to begin.”
c
“‘You can go back up top, or join me in the circle,’ I said to Gault. ‘I would not recommend standing outside my defenses here in the hold.’
“At first I thought he might simply ignore me, but after a moment’s reflection he stepped over the protections and into the circle at my side.
“‘They say strange things happen at sea,’ he said with a grin. ‘But I’ve seen nowt stranger than this in many a year.’
“I did not have the heart to tell him that this might only be the beginning of a great deal of strangeness yet to come. I waited while he lit up a cheroot and I got a pipe going, then we got to it.
“I started with an experiment, of sorts. I spoke the name again. Just once.
“‘Oannes.’
“The air thickened immediately, and the valves of the pentacle flared, dimmed, then flared again even brighter. The lamp flickered, as if a stiff breeze passed across it, although the air in the hold was stuffy and still. Shadows danced and capered across the stone chest, giving the carvings there the impression of swirling movement. And I felt it again, the tug in my mind, the call to the dance in the deeps.
“My defenses held; I had no compulsion to answer that call, and was able to watch almost rationally as black ooze seeped from the bottom corner of the box and spilled across the planks of the hold floor.
“Stout chap though he was, Gault gasped, and took an involuntary step backward. I only just stopped him from stepping on the lines denoting the innermost circle.
“‘Don’t move, old man,’ I said, even as the black ooze spread in a fan toward us. ‘If you break the circle now, we might both be dead—or worse—in seconds.’
“He nodded, and pulled himself together, although I saw fresh doubt in his eyes as the ooze came within inches of our protection. The pentacle’s valves flared, lighting the whole length of the hold. I heard the sound of waves crashing on some distant shore, a noise that was taken up and amplified, crashing and echoing around us, filling the hold with all the operatic fury of an open-sea gale.
“I called to mind a Babylonian binding ritual. As ever, I knew it was the rhythm of the thing rather than the words themselves that were of import. As I chanted, the valves flared and dimmed in time.
“‘The priest of EA am I, the priest of Damkina am I.
“‘The messenger of Marduk am I, my spell is the spell of EA.
“‘By the magic of the word of EA, and Marduk, son of Eridu,
“‘Let the Incarnation of Oannes of the Deeps never be unloosed.’
“Of course you all know from our association over the years that I don’t hold with the notion of gods or demons. I know for a fact that all were just manifestations of denizens of the Outer Dark. Our less-enlightened forebears knew no such thing … but they did know the efficacy of the correct sequence of sounds. And that was what I was banking on now. The chant was old, once of the oldest ever inscribed by the hand of man.
“And it seemed to work … at first. The ooze stopped its spread, even retreated somewhat in the face of my chanting. But as I brought the verse to an end, the blackness crept forward, and the roar of the sea began to assert itself once more. The tug in my mind, the call to the dance, got stronger, more insistent.
“‘Follow my lead,’ I said to Gault, and launched into the chant again, putting more into it this time, raising my voice to a shout. The first time round I was on my own, and although I once again stopped the ooze in its tracks and caused the noises and rage of the storm to abate, I did not do enough to banish them entirely. But when I started from the beginning the next time round, Gault’s strong baritone joined me, and our combined voices echoed and rang the length and breadth of the hold. The black ooze retreated.
“Then it started to fight back. I felt it first in my head, a rushing, tearing, sensation, like a retreating surf tumbling pebbles across a rocky shore. The noise in the hold, where our chant fought against a resurgent roar of a gale, became deafening. The hull began to roll and yaw; port, then starboard, then back again, as if the boat itself was now being tossed in that selfsame gale.
“Gault’s chant faltered. The boat seemed to surge below us, and a fresh roll almost knocked us both from our feet.
“‘She’s broken her moorings,’ he shouted, struggling to make himself heard above the roar and cacophony that surrounded us. ‘I have to get up top.’
“If I wanted to stop him, I would need to stop my own chant, and I felt the beast in my head, waiting for the opportunity to pounce. I could not relax, could not prevent Gault from carefully stepping out of the circle and heading at a run for the stairs.
“I was left alone in the hold, and the ravening beast was stronger than ever.”
c
“The black ooze surged across the deck, heading after Gault. I did the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment that might save him.
“I stopped chanting.
“The sea roared and screamed around me.
“I said its name, softly.
“‘Oannes.’
“Whatever designs the black ooze may have had on Gault were forgotten. It surged again, this time coming straight for the defensive circle, moving at speed. Blackness crashed against the outer lines. Valves flared, azure light blazing and throwing capering shadows around the hull. The noise of the gale rose, and rose again.
“The deck bucked underfoot, sending me to my knees. The lantern that Gault had left at my feet started to slide away from me. I made a grab for it—too late. It slid over the inner protective line, leaving a clear gap in the defenses.
“The tugging in my head grew severe, and I felt the call of the dance, an almost overpowering desire to just relax, and float, and dream.
“The black ooze gathered and thickened. The gale rose to an almost unbearable scream as the who
le boat tossed and bucked. The ooze surged, directly toward the weak spot in the circle.
“I was out of options. I had only one recourse open to me, one that I was loath to take, for I knew the chances of success were slim to none. Nevertheless, just as the ooze raised itself up and looked ready to fall on me from above, I shouted, unsure if I could even bring it to memory.
“The last line of the Saaamaaa Ritual echoed through the hold.
“There was a huge crash, and I was thrown down. I struck my head hard on the deck. My eyesight dimmed, but not before I saw the ooze dissipate, melting into the cracks in the deck. The movement of the boat steadied. I heard Gault call my name, but he was so very far away.
“I fell into a dead faint.”
c
“I awoke some time later with bright warm sun on my face and the taste of rum on my lips. Gault looked down at me, concern writ large on his face.
“‘You’re back among the living then?’ he said. ‘I knew that beastie was no match for a spot of rum.’
“He handed me a tumbler full of the spirit, and I was only too happy to knock it back. As it hit my stomach I started to feel more like my old self. I sat up and looked around.
“It was immediately apparent that we were no longer in Greenwich. The boat sat, on what looked to be an abnormally high tide, berthed at Westminster pier in the shadow of Parliament.
“Gault saw my puzzlement and grinned. ‘I thought we were lost for a time there. ‘Tis a shame you were out of things, for you missed a tidal bore the likes of which this old river has never seen. Fifteen feet high and more it must have been, and it carried us up from Greenwich to here like the winds of Hell were pushing us on. There’s heavy flooding up and down the whole length of the river; a terrible mess.’
“‘And we caused it?’
“He laughed again. ‘I wouldn’t go around making accusations against honest seafaring folks caught up in a natural calamity if I were you,’ he said. ‘Besides, whatever you did, it was quite a success.’
“He pointed down to the quayside. Four men were manhandling the stone box down the gangway.
“‘It seems to have lost whatever powers it had. And I will keep my word. You shall have your share, Mr. Carnacki. You more than deserve it.’
“I left the good captain standing upon his deck. The last I saw of him was as he waved down at me. Then I turned my back and made my slow way home to bed and a most welcome sleep.”
c
Carnacki sat back in his chair, his tale done.
“So Gault was right?” Arkwright said as we stood to take our leave. “Your risk at the end paid off?”
Carnacki was quiet for so long that I thought he would not answer.
“Perhaps,” he replied. “But I cannot get that last sight out of my mind; the sight of the black ooze seeping down through the cracks in the decking. And I wonder … did I banish it? Or did it merely take up a new home?”
He led us out into the hallway to collect our coats.
“I will tell you something,” he said as he opened the door. “You will never persuade me to go back on that vessel again, and I would suggest that you chaps give it a wide berth should you ever encounter it. Now, out you go.”
He showed us out into the night.
I took the long way home, avoiding the Embankment entirely. Somehow, the water did not seem very enticing.
The China Dolls
I received three letters at the same time from Carnacki on a damp morning just as I was headed out for work, and I left them on the coat stand to peruse as soon as I got home. The blasted things preyed on my mind all day, as they had been bulky enough for me to know that they must contain a new tale from him—any one of which was infinitely preferable to a day spent behind my desk in the bank.
It was with quite some relief and no little anticipation that I settled down later that evening with a glass of brandy and a smoke to read what my friend had gone to the trouble of sending me.
The first letter had been posted some three days ago, and had been sent from Stoke-on-Trent—I had only known Carnacki had gone on a trip, and had not known where. I was none the wiser having learned the location, so I took the sheaves from the envelope and began to read.
c
“My dear Dodgson, I find that I need to set my thoughts down to make some sense of the situation I have gotten myself into, so forgive me if I use this missive as a sounding board. It will not be the first time I have sought you out in such circumstances and, if I am spared, I am sure it will not be the last. And I must warn you, the tale I have to recount is rather strange—haunting is a word I hesitate to use, given its connotations, but by Jove if it isn’t apt in this particular case.
“As you will see from the letter, I am up in the Potteries, but the route taken to get here was not at all a simple one.
“The whole bally affair did not start as an investigation at all, but began with an invitation to dinner with Lord Atwell in his house in Belgravia. You know him—or of him, in any case—he has a reputation as a fine upstanding cove with not a bad bone in his body, although he has always, in my experience, been a bit dim and not prone to flights of fancy in any shape or form. So when he pulled me aside after a splendid dinner to ask my opinion on the subject of ‘haunts and spooks and ghosties, that kind of thing’ I was surprised, to say the least.
“It took the best part of a bottle of port and two of his Russian cigarillos before I got the story out of him—indeed, he seemed almost embarrassed in its telling.
“‘It is our youngest, Margaret,’ he said. ‘She has some-how gotten it into her head that her bedroom is haunted, and she refuses to even go into the bally room. I’ve had to send her away to my sister’s tonight—her youngest is of the same age and might be a calming influence—but I cannot have her refusing me on this. She is flighty enough as it is without me giving her leeway on such stuff-and-nonsense.
“‘I know this all sounds quite absurd, Carnacki, but I have heard you take an interest in these matters, and I wondered if you might perhaps, as a favor to me, take a look at the bedroom? Just as a precaution, you understand?’
“Having allowed him to extend himself so far just to ask for my help, I could not in all honesty turn him down. I sipped at some more of his port until the other guests departed; then he showed me up to his daughter’s room.
“He would not step inside, and at that point I began to wonder if there was more to this than mere suspicion that the girl might be, in his word, ‘flighty.’
“I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. I did not look for a light, as I preferred the dimmer conditions prevailing inside. A gas lamp out in the street beyond ensured I had enough illumination to see my way around, and at first glance it seemed exactly like any other child’s room, with much pink crinoline and assorted knickknacks scattered on every surface. A row of ten china dolls up high on a shelf looked down on the whole space; a row of little princesses with pale china faces offset by ruddy, too-red cheeks. They wore long velvet dresses ornate with lace and had piercing eyes that I knew must be palest blue despite the dim light—eyes that all seemed to look straight at me, just as I noticed them. The gaslight outside flickered, and for a second I took a funk as all twenty eyes seemed to blink, look away, and then return my stare once more.
“‘I shall be in the library should you need me,’ Atwell said from outside the door, and he left without waiting for a reply, his footsteps somewhat hurried as he descended the stairs.
“I was now completely alone in the dim room, and those blasted dolls, having already succeeded in piercing my equanimity, started to whisper.
“It was as if they held a private conversation, just beneath the sound level that could have been easily made out—a constant murmur that proved most unsettling. There was a harsh edge to it too, as if they were poking sarcastic fun at me, or manufacturing some dark plot against my person.
“I am not afraid to admit that the whole effect of the row of stari
ng eyes, the dim room and the murmur of voices gave me quite a scare. But as you know, I have stood up in some bally tight spots, and I was not about to flee from a child’s bedroom in the face of a little whispering in the dark.
“I stood still for several minutes, but I failed to make any sense of the whispering, although the timbre of it was most definitely menacing, and I could see how it might well terrify a susceptible child—or adult, even.
“Then, just as I was about to turn away, something shifted, a subtle but noticeable increase in the depth and quality of the shadows around the dolls themselves. The light from outside was steady, so it could not this time be blamed on the gas lamp. Instead it was a most definite sense of presence, a creeping blackness emanating from the bally dolls themselves. The murmuring and whispering got louder—there were still no discernible words or phrases, but the intention was clear enough—I was being asked, and none too subtly at that, to vacate the room. It belonged to them—and I had no business being there.
“I took the hint and left, heading back downstairs to make my report, such as it was, to Atwell.”
c
“‘You mean to say that you believe this nonsense?’ he said over another glass of port.
“‘How can I not?’ I replied. ‘I have stood there and heard the whispers; I have seen the gathering darkness. As have you yourself, unless I am reading you entirely wrong?’
“He went pale at that, and I knew that I had hit a nerve, but still he refused to admit it.
“‘So what is to be done?’ he asked, after downing his port rather too swiftly.
“‘I have some rituals I can perform,’ I began, but was immediately shouted down.
“‘No! I will not have any heathen nonsense in this house. You say that the problem is the dolls?’
“I nodded.
Carnacki: The Watcher at the Gate Page 5