Church of Sin (The Ether Book 1)

by James Costall

  “How will he bring Sin back with him?” she asked as they neared the lift.

  “How will what?” asked Patrick impatiently. “Oh, no, wait, I forgot: you talk to yourself.” He hit the lift button and the mechanism whirred into action.

  Sin – like the Necromire – cannot exist in the Ether without a Host. I have no idea who the Harbinger has in mind but he will need a human vessel to transport the Hollow One to this World.

  “Can’t he host two entities?”

  No. A human mind is barely capable of coping with one Necromire.

  “How am I doing?” Patrick eyed her with distaste as they waited for the lift, much as one might regard an old landmine on a beach. She smiled at him and he looked away.

  Not bad for someone so young. We might make it to the end sane enough to appreciate the end of the world.

  “Great.”

  The lift pinged and the door slid open. Alix went in first. Patrick followed but instead of hitting the ground floor he pushed the button to close the doors and the lift stayed motionless. Before she could react he turned on Alix, pushing her up against the mirror and pressing himself on to her.

  “Now listen you little freak,” he said. “I don’t give a shit that Harker saw you without an appointment. Around here I’m Jesus, Mary, the Holy Ghost and all the fucking sheep in the stable too, right? Now I want you to tell me about how you know about Maloney and I want you to tell me quickly and without doing anything weird.”

  “Calm down, Patrick,” she said. “I really don’t care about what you get up to with your staff. In fact it’s hard to envisage anything right now of less significance than you banging that old bird on reception.”

  He bore down on her even more, using his height to his advantage and putting his hand across her neck.

  “Someone needs to teach you some manners, little girl.”

  Had what happened next happened twenty four hours earlier, it perhaps would have seemed a lot odder than it felt to Alix right then but her inauspicious introduction to some of the greatest secrets that existed had desensitised her to things that were odd so that when Patrick fell backwards against the other side of the lift, colliding with the mirror with such force that it immediately shattered, it seemed close to trivial.

  But acclimatised as he was to the new capacity she had for destruction, what happened next was still rather unexpected.

  Alix found herself out of the lift and staring at a white bench. She had the feeling of movement, of gently bumping up and down. There was the sound of a diesel engine. Above her head four windows looked out on to a wood marching by. Above the engine she could hear the sound of a radio and two men talking.

  Then there was urgent shouting. The radio flipped off and the movement became jerky. Suddenly, she was thrown out of her seat violently and sent sprawling across the floor to the foot of the bench opposite her. The space she was in span over and over and she had the sensation of falling and leaving her stomach behind. Then a deafening bang and she was tossed forward, hitting her head against something before coming to rest in a heap on the floor.

  The doors had sprung open on collision and she could see the road on its side, winding away into the distance and disappearing into the trees. She knew she had to act fast and she scrambled out of the back and began running. Her feet ached and her head throbbed but she just kept running across tarmac and then moist earth, then dirt and grass. Running not arbitrarily but with purpose, towards a goal and with seemingly limitless energy.

  The barn was part of a farmyard, timber frames and straw under foot. Giant double doors creaked dangerously on stubborn hinges. Despite the weight of the wood, she threw them open.

  The scene before her unfolded quickly, like characters and scenery were hastily being picked out of boxes and placed on a stage for her to view. A man whose face was obscured by a black mask knelt beside the body of a blond haired girl. His hand rested on her forehead. Another girl - also with long, blond hair - stood next to him staring zombie-like into space. The masked man looked up sharply to face Alix but kept his hand steadily on the girl on the ground.

  “Azrael?” asked the masked man, cocking his head to one side, more like an inquisitive bird than a man caught red handed committing some foul deed.

  Alix stepped forward involuntarily. She was an observer, nothing more. Part of the expectant crowd gathered to see the show.

  “Yes,” she said in an unfamiliar man’s voice.

  “Well this is a surprise. How’s your wife?”

  “Lost her mind, thanks to you.”

  “It’s the same fate for us at some stage, I’m afraid, professor. Is the Innsmouth accommodation to your liking?”

  “Megan?” Alix focussed on the child standing but she didn’t respond. She just stared into the distance vacantly.

  “You’re too late, if that’s what you’re thinking. Megan’s soul is in the Inter-World. Her body reanimated here. Katelyn will follow her sister home shortly. There’s nothing you can do, Azrael. Go home.”

  “Damn you!”

  “Damn me? Have you any idea who I am?”

  “You are the demon they call Belial and the man they call the Harbinger.”

  “Yes. And I cannot be damned. Not in the way that you mean, at any rate.”

  “Foul beast! I’ll send you back to the Void!” Alix stepped forward but the masked man raised his hand dangerously and she halted.

  “Ah-ah,” he said, shaking his finger, “not another step, Azrael, or I destroy them both. Permanently.”

  “You wouldn’t risk that. They are too valuable.”

  “Not true. There are other ways to open a Portal. But I’ll wager you won’t test that theory.” Alix felt that he was right and she waited hesitantly for him to make the next move. She felt she didn’t really know what to do next.

  “So it was you who unnerved Sasha. You sent an innocent woman mad just to stall me?”

  “I did more than that, Azrael. I destroyed you too.” When Alix didn’t respond the masked man laughed unpleasantly. “What’s this? You don’t know? Oh, how amusing! The great physicist doesn’t even understand the imminence of his own demise. But you must know how I achieved what I did? Very well, let me enlighten you. Mercurial Beetles are only found in rare colonies in the Fifth Great World, a World not too dissimilar from the Ether but whilst in their native habitat they are trivial, uninteresting creatures. When they are brought here I have found that if they can be lodged near the brain they are capable of establishing a temporary neurological connection which, over time, stimulates the mind into mental shut down. Fucking bugs that make you go mad when you put them in people’s ears, for want of a better explanation! You and your sham wife were sleeping so soundly the night I came to you. You were easy to manipulate, even with that filthy Necromire in your head. With no demon to protect her, Sasha Anwick succumbed quickly to the madness. You’ll take a little longer to cook but it’ll come in due course.”

  Alix lifted her hand to her head. She had the feeling of pain and fear, or was it a memory?

  “I thought you were beaten almost instantaneously, Professor, and, in truth, I was disappointed. You tried to take your own life the night Sasha was driven to murdering your servant in front of you but the Necromire kept you alive long enough for rescue to take place. And of course, as I anticipated, they carted you off to Innsmouth, the secret hospital for the failures of Necromire and Host, where I thought you’d rot. But here you are, having presumably escaped either by luck or by skill and, if it be the latter, then I commend you but the Mercurial Beetle cannot be extracted and your end is close I am sure. Perhaps you will retain your faculties just long enough to watch me bring Sin to this World to destroy it in the most hideous way imaginable! I certainly hope so. But now, Azrael, I must take my leave. The sirens that approach aren’t after me of course but rest assured I shall be back to finish what has begun. If you...”

  The words began to fade and the barn began to blur and fuse with the lift. The
walls closed in on Alix and she caught her reflection in a mirror. In seconds, the barn was gone, as was the masked man and the Laicey girls. A ping sounded and the lift doors opened. A pleasant voice announced that she was on the ground floor.

  Alix stepped over Patrick’s motionless body and walked out of the Chambers and onto Fleet Street.

  Chapter 72

  Outside dusk has settled in. The rush hour traffic on Fleet Street sat impatiently bumper to bumper. The low rumble of idle engines was all around her, punctuated by horn blasts and numbed music from taxi radios. Shops were shutting and bars were opening as London prepared for another frenetic evening. Police on horseback wearing yellow vests and wooden top helmets strode in couples up the busy street. Commuters hurried to tube stations and to hail taxis, anxious to try and beat the rush. Alix passed a section cordoned off with cones and barriers where men stood around looking idly at holes they had dug in the road. The smell of hot tarmac was nauseating.

  “We had a special girly moment in the lift, didn’t we?” she said as she walked.

  Yes. You saw part of Anwick’s memory.

  “Surely that’s your memory too.”

  Well, technically I don’t have memories as such. I don’t have a brain.

  “Oh.”

  She passed under some scaffolding and to her annoyance one of the workers wolf whistled at her.

  “Shake that ass, baby!”

  She didn’t really think about it too hard. It was more of a surge than a concentrated thought. Nothing at all, really. The surge blew across the pavement, whipping up dust and debris in a mini-whirlwind before striking the bottom of the scaffolding. The entire structure shook and with a crash the worker was dislodged from his perch and sent tumbling to the ground beneath where he proceeded to roll around a lot yelling and clutching his knee. Others went to his aid and, seeing he was not badly hurt, jeered and laughed.

  You have to learn to control your temper, the Necromire warned.

  “I detest disrespectfulness among British workmen for women minding their own business. My ass is not to be admired. It is to be feared. Apparently. How did I do that?”

  I said earlier you have a much greater control over your physical environment. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that you are more attuned with your physical environment. The nexus between you and everything around you is incredibly sensitive. You could have killed that man.

  “Boo-hoo. You said something about not have a brain. Like the tin man. Or was it the lion?”

  Well, I don’t have a physical form so of course I don’t have a brain. I’m- I’m you, in essence. A superhuman extension of you. Kind of.

  “Sometimes you sound like me. Like the bit that talks to me in my head. The rationale bit. My conscience maybe.”

  I am you. You are me. We are one.

  “How profound. Is that why, despite you having been here for over two thousand years, you still sound like a dooshbag sometimes?”

  If you’re referring to the way I talk then any colloquialisms I use are as a result of feeding off your linguistics knowledge. I can only talk as good as you can, Wordsworth. And for the record, Anwick was far smarter than you. Being in his mind was like dining on the richest, most exquisite foods available. Being inside you is like being given a Happy Meal.

  “Well just as long as you’re not bitter about it.”

  I understand sarcasm.

  “Then we’re going to get along just fine.”

  Alix stopped. She looked around. Street lamps were on. Neon signs lit up and down a passageway off the main road advertising bars and a private shop. A group of girls – no older than fourteen – passed her, giggling incessantly, freezing in their tight tops and short skirts. It all seemed so... insignificant somehow. A purpose. What purpose could she possibly fulfil now? She was a freak. An experiment. God’s sick little joke. She wasn’t even sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

  You’re thinking about him again, said Azrael.

  “Actually I’m not. I’m thinking how unfair this all is. I mean, why me? Why is this happening to me?”

  We might be able to find that out.

  “What do you mean?”

  Cargil might have some answers about that. Clearly your father knows more than he ever told you because you can recite the words that Sin spoke to Cronos at the time of Confinement.

  “The what?”

  Like Eve, spawned was Sin of sacred flesh. Like Eve, thine equal was conceived. But thou art a fool brother; an ephemeral thing, this hollow prison and time be the servant of that which broods for thine own. Soon I will awaken from ancient slumber and I will rejoice in the fire that follows me.

  “Oh, that. I have no idea what it means. Or what the time of Confinement is.”

  That’s perfectly understandable. It’s very simple, really. I explained that the Nine Great Worlds were created by Cronos: the Original Maker. Cronos also created Sin as a demonstration of his power to the other Elder Ones. But it went wrong and where Cronos desired to create, Sin desired to destroy. And so Cronos confined Sin to the Void for ten thousand years after which he was free to leave – if he could find a way out.

  “And he can’t. Find a way out, I mean. Without help.”

  That’s right.

  “So, my father knows about all of this.” She dwelt upon that for a moment. The dreams she had of his challenges to her to find the right door to open. All along, he knew the truth about the world.

  She thought about her sister. Was her disappearance linked to all of this?

  “Cargil will have answers.” The words were caught somewhere between a question and a statement.

  Perhaps.

  They walked further. So deep in thought, she was barely aware of her surroundings now.

  “Why didn’t the Harbinger just kill Anwick in his sleep when he had the chance?”

  Too risky, I guess. He needed to sever the connection between Anwick and me first. I hadn’t remembered about the Mercurial Beetles until we had the flashback in the lift. They took a while to kick in but once they did... well you saw Anwick towards the end.

  Alix thought about the dishevelled monster she’d met in Innsmouth only a few days ago. She shivered. Above her, a street lamp began to flicker intermittently.

  By the way, what is it with you and Detective Fielding?

  “What do you mean?”

  Your relationship seems... complicated.

  “Actually I think it’s very simple. We were friends at university. Now we work together. End of.”

  No. I don’t think it is. Across this road and then left.

  She didn’t wait for the traffic lights but skipped past the motionless cars and taxis to an intersection leading toward the river. The alleyway reeked of kebabs.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Yes, you do. You can’t fool your subconscious, parasitic, inter-dimensional alien friend. Talk to me.

  She sighed heavily. She’d never had this conversation with anyone, not even her closest friends, but there seemed little harm in talking out loud to herself about it. She was well past the point of caring now.

  At the end of the alleyway was a small oriental-run electronics store selling and hiring cheap television sets to students. In the front window six screens of varying sizes projected images of her leaping from the Audi and taking Charlie to safety. A news caption underneath read, “Miracle Girl rescue instant U-Tube hit.” Another read: “Video of leaping girl proved fake.”

  Funny how they’re more interested in you than how all those cars blew up?

  She felt a hot flush coming on.

  “So I guess, with Ash,” she said after a while, “it’s always been a bit... odd. You know, I mean, he’s a nice looking guy but we’ve never... you know... I don’t think I... look, why don’t we talk about this after the world ends?”

  Whenever you’re ready, Miracle Girl.

  “Anyway, right now I’m not sure I know who Ash is anymore.”

  Why no
t?

  She told her head about sneaking back to Ash’s office to have a quick peek at his computer and finding all that stuff about her. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to have the same anger she’d thought she’d have after reciting the incident again out loud. Actually, she felt a little ashamed for hacking into his computer. What on earth gave her that right?

  Along the river bank ultra modern, gleaming white buildings with more glass than stone had been inexplicably inserted next to Victorian red bricked chambers with small, thin windows lining their sides, as if the architects were deliberately trying to crush as many as they could onto the face of the building. It was outside one of the more insignificant looking buildings - a small column of white stone tagged onto the end of the row as an afterthought - that Azrael required her to stop.

  This is it.

  “This is what?”

  This is where we’ll find the Home Secretary.

  “Here?”

  Yes, here. This is his unofficial office, the one where people like us go.

  “People like us?”

  You know what I mean. Ring the bell. When the fat cockney opens the door say that Harker sent you to register.

  Chapter 73

  A plump face curled round the door and stared dumbly at Alix. The simplicity of the features that stared at her forced Alix to do a double take and check that the essentials were there: two eyes, a nose, a wide, fat lipped mouth and flappy ears that stuck out awkwardly from a mop of wiry, dark hair.

  “Yes, sweet’art, can I ‘elp you?”

  “Harker sent me to register.”

  The plump face, whose body was still hidden behind the door, blinked a few times as he looked her up and down.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, a sudden beam broadening across his face. “You’s that girl I seen on the telly! What they callin’ you? Miwicle Giwrl!”