by Myatt, Ben
The shop was but a distant memory, and the wife and children, well, he couldn't even remember their faces. Now, he was just another old man in a dirty jacket sleeping in the park.
He pulled the newspaper over him, huddling beneath it for warmth.
“Now, Ron, what are you doing out here?”
Ron rolled over, and stared up with bleary eyes at the policeman standing over him.
“Try'na sleep.”
“Well, you can't be sleeping out here. You know the law.”
“Bug'r off!”
“None of that, old son. Let's get you somewhere warm – there's a nice space in the cells waiting for you.
Grumbling, Ron got to his feet, and began to shuffle off ahead of the constable. They set off through the tree-lined avenue, the tramp stumbling on cracked feet.
Around them the darkness seemed to get deeper, developing its own texture, like deepest velvet. The constable looked around nervously at the trees, then pointed to a gap between them.
“C'mon Ron, there's a shortcut through there.”
The pair stopped, and stared at the dark entrance to the trees. Somewhere in the back of Ron's gin-soaked brain, synapses long since unused began to fire. He felt a cold shiver of fear go down his spine.
“D'nt w'na.”
“Oh, just bloody get moving will you!”
The constable gave him a shove on the shoulder, sending him stumbling towards the trees. Ron took a few shuffling steps into the darkness, then stopped.
“No. Not goin'.”
The velvet darkness swirled around them, and something snapped inside the policeman's mind. He aimed a kick at the tramps backside, sending him stumbling face first to the floor.
“You'll do what I tell you, you filthy bastard!”
Ron groaned, and the constable aimed another kick at his side. He felt something snap under his boot tip. The darkness seeped into his mind, whispering to him, pushing him onwards. He reached down to his belt, and drew his wooden truncheon. Ron began to struggle to hist feet, groaning as he came. The truncheon lashed across his face, smashing him back to the floor. Blood gushed from his nose as he began to struggle up once more. The policeman hit him again. Then again.
A young man was walking home from his night shift when he passed the trees. He paused, as a sound like someone tenderising a steak came from the woods. He paused, then went to investigate.
He wandered into the trees, as the moonlight began to silver the grass. He paused, and listened to the regular thumping sound coming from the darkness.
A chill ran down his spine as he stepped into the clearing amidst the trees. His eyes went wide as the policeman stood over the inanimate bundle in the grass. Liquid dripped from the end of the truncheon, black in the moonlight. The constable turned and stared at him.
The clerk ran. He ran through the trees and onto the path, the pounding footsteps of the constable following him. Tearing out of the park, another policeman stopped him.
“What's up with you, lad, you look like you've seen a ghost!”
The young clerk could only stare at him, then turned to look back at the park as the crazed constable emerged from the shadows.
***
Callum struggled into wakefulness as someone shook his arm. He woke up, and stared up at Elizabeth standing over him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Fetching you. Get up, we've got work to do.”
He glanced through the window and looked at the still dark sky.
“I have got to get a better job,” he grumbled. He sat up on the bed, and the covers fell away from his naked form. Elizabeth spun like a top, a rosy blush spreading up her cheeks. Callum cast her an amused look, and began to dress.
“So, what are we being sent after this time, the tooth fairy?”
“No. There's been some murders in one of the parks.”
Callum paused, his shirt half open. Elizabeth glanced round, then snapped her view forward once more.
“Murder investigations aren't exactly our remit.”
“These are different. The Guild noticed a large spike in magical energy at around the same time of these attacks. Clarence wants us to have a look. Nathaniel is already on site.”
Callum sighed, and did up his shirt.
“Let's get to it then.”
***
A short hansom cab ride later, and the pair were walking into the park. Callum was wearing a long coat to hide the revolver at his side. Elizabeth had declined a weapon, relying on her magic to defend herself. Nathaniel met them at the entrance, where he beckoned them over to the side.
“Hold still,” he ordered.
“What...” Callum began.
Nathaniel reached up and touched his ear. There was a brief buzzing sound, and he flinched.
“Can you hear me, Mr Drake?”
Callum blinked in surprise. Nathaniel grinned at him.
“Pinch your earlobe to respond. Daltrey came up with this one.”
Callum obeyed, gripping his earlobe between his forefinger and thumb.
“I read you, Gordon. Good work on this spell, there's very little interference.”
“Thankyou sir. I'll be monitoring magical activity in your area through the lattice over London, and I'll keep you abreast of anything to worry about.”
Callum resisted the urge to look up. The lattice was a network of magical threads extending over the city, a monitoring system that allowed the Guild to spot magical activity throughout London. He nodded to himself, and focussed on the task at hand. They walked over to the three shrouded bodies on the floor, and looked at the shocked looking policeman standing next to them.
“Can you tell us what happened here?” Nathaniel said.
“Well, sir, I was patrolling around the outside of the park When this young gentleman came running out. Looked like he'd seen a ghost, he did. Next thing I know, Thomas, the other lad on patrol,is following him out and belts him as hard as he can with his truncheon. Lad dropped like a stone and hit his head on the cobbles. I dunno what came over Thomas, sir, but then he threw himself under the wheels of a cab coming up the road.”
Nathaniel looked into the policeman's haunted eyes for a few moments, then nodded.
“Alright constable, you can go. I'll clear it with your superiors.”
“Thankyou sir.”
“Who was the third man?” Elizabeth asked.
The policeman gave her a scared look, then glanced back at the shrouded corpses.
“Tramp by the name of Ron Faversham, Miss. Thomas beat him to death.”
Elizabeth frowned, and looked at the covered bodies.
“Where was that, if you don't mind me asking?”
“Back inside the park, Miss. A clearing back in the trees.”
“Alright, thankyou.”
With a relieved look on his face, the policeman headed off down the quiet street. The three agents shared a look, and headed into the darkened park.
Another officer was standing by the entrance to the trees, his face showing an expression of mild sickness as they approached. He wordlessly pointed them towards the clearing, his handheld lantern showing the way.
“They seem on edge, don't they?” Nathaniel noted.
“Wouldn't you be?” Callum replied. He led the trio into the trees, until they reached the small clearing.
A black stain had spread across the ground from Favershams body, testament to the violence that Constable Thomas had used. Callum knelt next to the stain, and examined it closely.
“He hit him from behind. The footprints are coming from the path towards the clearing. This wasn't random," he said thoughtfully. Standing, he walked to the edge of the clearing, and examined the trees.
Elizabeth and Nathaniel knelt by the bloodstain, and began to compile a scrying spell. Looking into the recent past wasn't difficult – it was one of the first spells any mage learnt – but as they set the spell in motion, the orb it created flickered, then died. Nathaniel frowned.
“Strange.”
“What's it doing?” Callum asked. He reached to his belt, and pulled out a knife. Holding it carefully, he began to chip away at the bark of one of the trees.
“Something's blocking the spell. We'll have to work around it.”
Callum looked at the chip of bark in bis hand, turning it this way and that. He half-listened as Nathaniel and Elizabeth began to weave their spell, trying to shake off the idea that something was very wrong.
The tattoo on his arm began to tingle as he looked at the woodchip. Behind him, he felt the other two agents release their spell...
A sharp pain ran up his right arm, and he spun as Nathaniel released the spell. A glowing orb rose above the bloodstain on the grass to hover about three feet above the ground.
“Something isn't right...”
The orb turned black, then expanded, throwing Elizabeth and Nathaniel back. Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and raised her hands, a protective ward leaping up in front her like a shield.
“What the hell...”
A pair of glowing red eyes formed at the centre of the orb, and hairy, gigantic legs began to slide out of its circumference. The orb expanded into a massively furred, segmented body, a cruelly pincered mouth extending from the front.
The giant spider turned to look at Nathaniel, and opened its slavering jaws. The lead agent stared at it, horror creeping across his face.
“Nathaniel, get down!” Callum yelled. He reached inside his coat and drew the revolver. Thumbing back the hammer, he levelled it at the red eyes, and fired.
A gout of blood spurted from the monsters head, and it reared back in pain, before rushing at the Dragon-Blood. Callum dived to his side and rolled behind Elizabeth.
Elizabeth dropped the word for a moment, and thrust her hand forward. A bolt of fire flashed from her hand to impact against the spider's side. With a smell of scorched hair, the spider reared its head back and spat a stream of fluid at the pair.
The liquid impacted Callum in the centre of his chest, slamming him back against a tree with violent force. He yelled as the fluid burnt like acid, searing his skin. He tried to move his arm, but the liquid solidified like cement, pinning him to the spot.
“Nathaniel, a little help would be appreciated!” Elizabeth yelled, throwing herself to the side to avoid a further stream of venomous gunk.
Nathaniel stood paralysed, his face a mask of panic. She ran to him, ducking under a hairy leg that swiped at her as she sprinted. Grabbing him by the arms, she shook him.
“What's wrong with you?” she snapped. “It's just a bloody insect!”
“...Arachnid...”
“Whatever! We need your help!”
He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the spider, that had begun to stalk towards Callum. The Dragon-Blood struggled against his bonds, trying to free himself from the glue like substance as it seared his arms.
Elizabeth punched him in the eye. He reeled back, then turned his eyes to her, as if seeing her for the first time.
“That bloody hurt!”
“Good!”
Nathaniel's eyes snapped back to the spider, and an almost bestial snarl crossed his face. He raised his arms, his hands facing towards each other, about a foot apart.
Energy crackled between his fingers, coalescing into a ball of lightning between his hands.
Drawing back his hands, he hurled the ball of lightning at the spider. It exploded against the creatures side with a blinding flash, dazzling Elizabeth as she threw up a ward to protect against the backlash. She felt the impact against her spell, and was thrown back by the sheer force of it, her body slamming into Nathaniel's and sending them to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
The spider turned back to them, unearthly hatred burning in its gaze. Half of the fur along its side had been scorched away, revealing mottled, scaled flesh. Two of the legs on its left side hung useless, and it dragged them behind it as it stalked towards them, venom dripping from its fangs.
But the delay had been just what Callum needed. Straining, he freed his right arm from the searing webbing. He flicked his wrist, and the silver void-sword leapt into incandescent life. He cut away the remaining webbing, the gunk disintegrating at the touch of his blade, and ran towards the wounded spider.
Gripping the swords hilt in both hands, he launched a massive overhand cut at the segmented midriff.
The spider screamed as the blade bit into its flesh, and Callum felt bone and sinew rip and tear as his blade cut through the foul beast. His right arm felt like it was on fire as he cut, energy running through it to feed the void-sword's hunger.
With one final effort, the blade sheared through the spider's spine and out the other side, a gush of black ichor flooding from the wound to soak the ground. The spider began to shrivel, steam rising from its form as its limbs shrunk and curled in on themselves.
Callum stood there panting, his sword resting on the ground as the spider shrunk like drops of water on a stove, and vanished.
“Well,” he gasped, “I think we've established that magic is a factor here.”
***
“The creature you fought was called an Arachnadon,” Daltrey said, his fingers tapping on the top of his desk. “They're magical spiders that are traditionally used by skilled mages as traps for the unwary. There hasn't been one seen in Britain in over a century.”
“Well, I think we can conclusively say they're still around,” Callum murmured. He glanced at Nathaniel. “Are you all right?”
“I'm fine. I just... really dislike spiders.”
“I don't know anyone who particularly likes them.” Elizabeth said wryly. Nathaniel sighed.
“When I was younger, my parents took me on a trip to the Australian colonies. Father was a Guild member, and had been sent to investigate the magical potential over there. One night, as I was sleeping, I felt something tickling my face. I woke up, and there was a huge spider sitting on my pillow, one of its legs stroking my face.”
He shuddered at the memory.
“It was an Australian Tarantula. They're not deadly, and thankfully, reluctant to bite. I've been terrified of the damned things ever since.”
The four sat in silence, mild expressions of horror on their faces.
“You know, Nathaniel, I could honestly have lived the rest of my life not knowing that story,” Elizabeth said.
“It's always better to share, Elizabeth,” Nathaniel replied, a wan smile crossing his face.
“We're getting a bit far afield, here,” Callum said, trying to rein the conversation back from horrifying, multi-legged creatures. “Gordon, do you have any theories as to what summoned the Arachnadon?”
Daltrey nodded, and laid his hands on the table. The top of the desk began to glow with a pale light. Slowly, a shining map of London formed on the table. Daltrey tapped it, and a network of lights spread out from the centre in a series of interlocking threads.
“This is the lattice, as it currently stands,” he said, indicating the criss-crossing network. “And this...” - he tapped the table again - “is the lattice several hours ago, when the murder was taking place.”
In the location of the park, the threads began to bend inwards, knotting like string over the area of the murder.
“That should not be doing that,” Nathaniel said. “The lattice is meant to remain static.”
Daltrey nodded.
“Something was causing a vast magical upsurge in the area – not only that, but it was feeding on the lattice itself to gain power.”
Callum watched as the bright knot of magic unravelled, and moved back into its regular intersections.
“Call it paranoia, but I've got a feeling something big is coming – and this is only the beginning."
Chapter two
Privates Reynolds and Cobb were on leave. For some soldiers of Her Majesty's forces, that would mean going home to see family or sweethearts, or visiting friends they wouldn't normally get to see.
Reynolds and Cobb di
dn't really care for their families. Other than each other, they didn't really have any friends either.
And outside of the whores of Whitechapel, they didn't really have any ladies they would class as 'sweethearts' either. Like some soldiers, they didn't really look for much in a woman – their main proviso was that she was cheap.
They'd found a rather dingy little whorehouse on one of the back streets, and after a couple of drinks, had taken one of the women upstairs. Some negotiations had ensued – spirited ones. Now, they lounged downstairs, their feet up on the tables, glasses of beer in their hands.
“You know, I could get used to this.” Reynolds said. “The easy life, women nearby, plenty of drink... what's not to love.”
Cobb glanced around, and frowned.
“I reckon we should get out of here.”
“Oh?”
“Better places to be, my lad. The whole of London awaits.”
“I hope you're planning on paying your tab before you leave.”
They glanced up at the madam, her heavily rouged face stern above her ample bosom.
“Haven't you heard, love?” Reynolds said nastily, getting to his feet. “The queens soldiers drink for free.”
“Since bloody when?”
Reynolds hit her, sending the woman reeling back against the nearest table.
“Since now, you dried up old tart! Best be getting me and my mate here another drink, or you'll get another one.”
Cobb looked at his friend in shock, then glanced around the room. At the balcony above the bar area, the other women were watching them.
The lights seemed to dim as Reynolds stood there, fury on his face. The madam struggled back to her feet, and spat in the soldier's face.
“You cheeky bastard. You think you're something special, do you?”
The soldier cocked his fist again, but the madam was ready this time. Stepping forward, she raised her knee into Reynolds' groin, bending him over double.
Cobb watched the events unfold before him, then got to his feet. He tossed some coins on the table.
“Sorry miss. I'll get him out of here.”
She shot him a look of pure venom.
“You ain't going nowhere.”
He stepped back from the fury in her gaze, and looked around again. The other girls were slowly moving down the stairs in various states of undress. There were red stains on some of their cloths.