The Guild Chronicles Books 1-3

by J M Bannon

  “The ghost in the metal suit?” asked the Duke.

  “Yes, his name is Azul Hassan.”

  “And he is really a dead Muslim in a mechanist creation?”

  “Yes, can I —"

  “And you are sure he has disappeared?” interrupted the Duke.

  “Yes” answered Dolly. The Duke was getting on his nerves, but he had no jurisdiction, and if he were to have any authority, it would come from working with the local police. He wondered if Henrik had done too good a job and gotten someone with too much authority. If this was like back home, there were people in charge that couldn’t be anything but a nuisance at a crime scene.

  The Duke barked in German at Henrik who scurried off.

  “I will have some of my agents here momentarily to help with investigations. Given the guest list, I have some operatives here and they will need to know to be on alert. Now please continue about your missing mechanical man,” finished the Duke.

  “Please follow me,” said Dolly walking into the courtyard. It was bathed in an amber glow from all of the lamps, and a low his could be heard from the chorus of the lamps’ operation. Dolly walked him over to the mechanical arm laying on the ground, “This device Detective Caldwell identified as the artificial limb of a Mechanist named Alfred Fletcher. He designed the mechanist man —Azul.”

  “Was he also in attendance?”

  “I don’t think he was,” said Dolly. He walked over to the clock.

  “This is the more concerning item we found,” said Dolly.

  “Superintendent, what tobacco is that you smoke?”

  “It’s a blend of Tennessee and Virginian. I get it at Helpman's in London. Do you smoke?”

  “On occasion.”

  Dolly reached into his suit coat and pulled out his tobacco pouch handing it to the Duke.

  The Duke smiled and took out his pipe, “Danke, and please continue as to why you are so concerned about a wind-up clock in the Baron’s courtyard,” said the Duke as he filled his pipe.

  “Would you agree that the clock is unique in its craftsmanship?”

  “It is a fine-looking clock,” said the Duke crouched as he puffed his pipe under match fire. He guided the match closer to the clock to shed more light.

  “This clock looks identical to one that I have seen before. One that we have in evidence in London and was used to open a portal,” said Dolly.

  “A portal?”

  “Yes, a gate, a door. I’m not one for all the technical malarkey but believe me when I tell you that the Crown has taken this very seriously and see it as a threat to the Empire. There is a criminal conspiracy that has ability to move from place to place instantaneously. In our previous confrontation with this group they were able to move from Italy, America, and France as easy as stepping through a door,” explained Dolly.

  “May I pick it up?” asked the Duke.

  “This is your crime scene, sir.”

  The Duke nodded in agreement, “I mean is it dangerous?”

  “Not really when it is triggered it projects the doorway through the lens above the clock face,” said Dolly.

  The Duke picked up the clock and looked at it. With his clay pipe clenched in his teeth, he opened the glass that covered the clock face, “not all that remarkable.”

  “These conspirators, what is known of them?”

  “We ran into this group in our investigation of the Zeus Colonial. Marshal Quentin, who is in attendance, contacted us about a similar instance in the U.S. western territories where a whole town was killed like those on the airship. They have a device that when detonated instantly kills all by ripping their souls out— I know this all sounds like some fanciful tale,” said Dolly.

  “Superintendent, I know of your Detective Caldwell and her affiliation with the Traubes. Her work to find Dr. von Traube, her skills in the arcane and helping the Alchemists with the industrial catastrophe at the crucible works, made me take an interest in her. If half of what I have gleaned about her is true then what you tell me while shocking, I will take on your word as the truth as you know it,” said the Duke.

  “Sir, while she ain’t what most call a witch, Rose is a talented metaphysicist and a damn good detective. When running up on the likes of villains with the ability to steal souls and travel without being seen, I find her indispensable,” said Dolly.

  “Should we get her view on this matter?” asked the Duke.

  “Certainly, you should interview her, and as her superior, we are here to help you by being as active or inactive as you wish,” offered Dolly.

  “I appreciate that. I promise to share what I find—”

  Two men came into the courtyard. Gorber spoke to them in German, and one left the other took the clock from Gorber.

  “My agents,” said the Duke glancing at the man with the clock, “from what you know can this traveling clock just appear?”

  “I don’t think it so, but I’ll tell you this, they can be activated and just about anything can come through,” Dolly felt it not crucial to the investigation to share that when Allard had activated the clock in Rose’s basement a few months back, he sent through his animated creatures to kill Rose and Dolly.

  “So, whoever went through this door had to have put the clock here?” asked the Duke.

  “Would the mechanical man, Mr. Hassan, would he go through one of these doorways if he was to happen upon it?”

  Dolly’s first conclusion was that Caiaphas and his group abducted Azul, but curiosity would have killed that cat, and Azul would have gone through, “I would like to think he would have told someone, but he is like Rose and I and would have pursued them before the chance to catch them was lost.”

  “Then we have the metal arm, was your Mr. Fletcher here, or was this used to bait Azul?”

  “There is one other option I have contemplated. The leader of this group we call him Caiaphas, we are unsure if this is his real name. He may be looking to bait us by letting us know he has Fletcher and now Azul,”

  “Who would he be baiting and who might his next targets be?”

  Only one name came to Dolly’s mind, “Rose.”

  31

  Sunday the 1st of September, 1861

  8:20 A.M. The library of Palazzo Corsini, Rome, Italy

  The silver and crystal cube rested on the table before Gerrard. The moving eldritch gases within cast a purple hue on the surface of the table. His eye caught a reflection on the surface of the silver, and he knew that it was someone entering the library. He looked up to see the Countess.

  Gerrard looked back at the ornate metal box. Scrutinizing the tiny contacts on two sides. He did not stare at the countess like other men. While her form was pleasing, he had brushed the being’s mind that occupied the body, and that repulsed him. Instinctively he concentrated more on his mental defenses making sure to ward off any psychic influence the Countess may try to use on him. While it had been weeks since Gerrard and the creature communicated telepathically, neither had brought up why he had stopped communicating that way. It was unspoken, but the Countess or the beast that controlled her with the unpronounceable name knew it was because Gerrard was now strong enough to defend against his influence.

  “It’s rather simple in its design really, quite different from these other gemulets,” said Gerrard gesturing to the ornate objects on the library table, “it’s the contacts that appear to trigger when items are actioned within that appears to be the main difference.”

  “That is no mean feat. The woman created a means for the immaterial to manipulate the material world. A profound achievement don’t you think?” The Countess took the gemulet from the table top and looked deep into the crystal held within the metal structure where the eldritch energies were trapped.

  “Come with me please,” she said walking towards the hallway.

  Gerrard stood and followed her. The sound of her heel clicks echoed through the tall marble hallway. She said nothing and made her way down a stair to the lower levels where the theurgy
chamber and Dimetri had his workshop. She passed all those doors and when she turned towards a locked metal door Gerrard’s stomach fluttered. That was one of the doors to the lower chambers of the palazzo where Gerrard and others were forbidden to go. He, of course, knew what lay below, he had projected his thoughts into his mentor’s lair.

  She unlocked the door and opened it. The Countess gestured for Gerrard to go through. After passing the Countess stopped to light an oil lamp then locked the door behind them. From the landing, they followed a stone stairwell that spiraled down. About halfway the smell hit him, causing him to feel nauseous and took all his strength to hold his food down. He felt a rhythmic wave of psychic energy pulsing against his defenses each step the power of the wave was stronger.

  The stairwell ended in a stonework catacomb. It had to be built during the Roman empire, centuries of dust covered the walls. The Countess stopped at a heavy oak door at the end of the passageway.

  “While I believe your mind is strong enough, I must warn you that some have succumbed to insanity when they see my true physical form. As a precaution you may wish to be blindfolded,” cautioned the Countess.

  “I’ll be fine,” Gerrard took the comment as a challenge to his abilities.

  “Very well,” She opened the doors and walked in.

  The chamber was unlit, and it was difficult to see the only light coming from the lamp the Countess held. Gerrard could make out ornate Roman mosaics on the floor and ceiling, peering through huge patches of mildew and mold. He could not see the walls to the left or right as the room was so big.

  As much as he tried to prepare himself for the sight, he wasn’t. As the light from the lantern spilled onto the mass in the pool Gerrard’s skin crawled. He shut his eyes to get a respite. Upon opening them, the Countess was at the edge of the pool and in front of her was a moving mass of flesh. It seemed to be in continuous motion, changing and twisting. In some places there were tentacles, others it was deformed limbs; portions appeared to be consuming other parts. All in one mass you could see bone, skin, organs, eyes and none in any proper order. It was as if an abattoir’s scrap bin came alive and it had a similar smell.

  < I disgust you?>

  Caiaphas was piercing his defenses. It must have been the proximity.

  The Countess stepped into the pool. It was shallow only coming to ankle height. She held out the gemulet, and a tentacle reached out of the mass and grabbed the cube and pulled it into the blob of flesh.

 

  Gerrard paused but didn’t even let the thought form in his conscious mind where he was sure Caiaphas would see it. If this were a trick to make him his thrall, there would be little he could do, and if he didn’t step in or he let his fear surface, then Caiaphas would know that he did indeed fear the beast and Gerrard wouldn’t give him that power.

  With a step, he felt the fluid soak into his boot, and as he closed his eyes, he began uttering the meditation to project his spirit into the gemulet.

  * * *

  8:29 A.M. Within Azul’s Gemulet

  “Welcome Azul Hassan,” came a disembodied voice.

  Azul had been in the gemulet with no contact for some time. The amount he could not be sure, he would have to guess it had been several hours since he was abducted, and Fletcher’s mechanist men removed his power cells.

  A woman materialized inside the space. It was still empty except for the control panel connected to the suit identical to the mechanist man and some living room furniture. Azul sat in ta wingback chair.

  “A bit austere,” she said.

  “I’ve not had much time to decorate. Who are you?”

  “I am your patron saint. The originator of your Brotherhood.”

  “Caiaphas?”

  “You can call me that or recently I have been more inclined to Countess Corsini,” said the woman.

  Azul chuckled, “Well, I must admit I was hoping to meet you at some point but under different conditions.”

  “One where you had the upper hand?” asked the Countess.

  “Exactly,” said Azul.

  “Well, you won’t. You are quite helpless. The gemulet has been removed from the automaton and its now inside my prison.” The woman walked around the control panel and the replica suit of the mechanist man.

  “Ah, here comes another guest,” said the Countess.

  A young mix race man appeared. His facial features strongly influenced by his European ancestry but the skin, eyes, and hair of African descent.

  “Vizier Hassan, may I introduce my protégé Gerrard Du Moya,” said the Countess.

  “Angelica’s son?”

  “Son, your mother is looking for you,” said Azul.

  “My mother is dead,” Gerrard replied.

  “No — well she died that is true, but she has risen again in the body of another. It was she who helped to put me in here,” said Azul motioning to the metal suit.

  The young man strode around circling like a predator, “She helped you by putting you in this thing?”

  Azul bit his lip and winced. He was in a sense imprisoned here, “The circumstances are unique you see, and my choice was to embody this form. Your mother helped to transfer my spirit from the mortal form I shared with another fellow. This is much better.”

  Gerrard didn’t even glance at him he was inspecting the panel, and the suit that allowed Azul to operate the automaton.

  “Leave it be,” growled Azul.

  Gerrard glared at him, “I would be cautious wizard, your options are limited. I guess you could leave, just know that the gemulet we are sharing, is currently the midst of the seething goo, that is that one’s form on earth,” said Gerrard pointing at the Countess, “I can affirm its true form is not so pleasing.”

  “And I would add your leaving would not be into the hereafter or heaven or whatever your concept is of the afterlife, I would consume your spirit. You would become part of me,” said the Countess.

  Azul couldn’t fathom what that meant, but after his experience with the binding of Pruflas, he knew how fragile the human spirit was around these beasts.

  “Very well, I’m your prisoner, what do you want of me?” posed Azul.

  “Nothing, All I care about is how the constructs within this gemulet elicit responses in the material world,” said Gerrard.

  “Why? It looks as though you and Fletcher have already figured out how to bring those monstrosities to life.” said Azul.

  “Tsk tsk, those are your brothers, or at least your cousins and your father had nothing to do with their genesis. Certainly, he put the pieces together, but it was young Gerrard here who breathed the spark of life into them,” said the Countess.

  She moved closer to Azul, her intimacy made him uncomfortable.

  “I want to show you something,” said the Countess as she embraced Azul’s form.

  Azul was ripped out of the gemulet and was in a maelstrom of thoughts and visions. All he wanted to do was scream as he was bombarded with memories and images from the past, present, and future. He was being pulled into Caiaphas’s mind. He was being absorbed. It was beautiful and horrific all at the same time and just as he was about to capitulate and be consumed, he was tossed back into the gemulet. It all happened in an instant, and then he was back — safe. She let go, and he fell to the floor shivering and speechless.

  “That is what awaits you, Vizier. Just say the word, and I will release you from this prison, and you can become one with my consciousness. You will become a welcome addition. Now I suggest you stay there and leave the boy and I to understand the internal workings of this gemulet.”

  * * *

  10:20 P.M. Gilchrist Townhouse, Belgravia, England

  Rose stepped through the door of the Gilchrist townhouse to see her boss, Detective Inspector Burton scribbling in his leather notebook. She caught his eye, and this caused him to break away from his chatting with a constable standing in Azul’s home.

  “Good to see you, Dete
ctive Caldwell. Your wire-type was a bit short on detail. You mind filling me in on why you had me secure this place and Mr. Fletcher’s room?” asked Burton.

  “And you too, Mr. Burton,” Rose guided him out onto the stoop away from the ears of the constable and butler inside, “Azul went missing at Mr. Gilchrist’s wedding reception. We found the prosthetic arm I made with Mr. Fletcher and a clock like the one we got from Allard. It’s with the Prussians but they opened it up, and it has the same system as the clocks used by Caiaphas.” said Rose.

  “So other than the kidnapping, the wedding was a smash?” said Burton.

  Rose couldn’t contain her smile. “Yes, Mr. Burton, I doubt a royal wedding could compare, and those Traubes can throw a party,” said Rose.

  “The bride and groom are safe?” asked Burton.

  “Here is the thing, I couldn’t come to tell them that Azul was missing. They were so happy and have been through so much that I told them he was resting and sent them on their way.”

  “Rose, what if they are in danger?”

  “Detective, we are all in danger until we nab this Caiaphas fellow. Those close to me it seems a bit more, but let's not forget they have the infernal contraption that was used in Harpsichord. What if they were to use it here in London?” said Rose.

  “So, we have one possibly two people who have disappeared; both have an affiliation to a man that has a device capable of killing thousands in the snap of a finger,” summarized Burton.

  “Don’t forget there is a history. Long ago, Azul was some sort of priest in charge of keeping a creature name Pruflas entombed. This Caiaphas was a party to it and Azul was recently traveling to find out more about his affiliation with his old order. Oh, that reminds me, he said that he had some books sent to the house,” said Rose rushing in the doorway to the library.

  Rose looked for something to open the four crates that were in the room on the floor when the butler came in.