The Untold Tales of Dolly Williamson: An Occult Steampunk Thriller: Prequel to The Guild Chronicles (The Guild Chronicles: A Steampunk Fantasy Book Series 0)

by J. M. Bannon

  The Guild Master’s plan was to split the group, with the stationary séance concentrating on divining the whereabouts of the enchantress. The second group would be mobile, and the Necronists would connect telepathically across the aether guiding them to the location.

  Being physically closer to Angelica would leave her little time to escape from Gerrard, if she detected the psychic search. The mobile group would be less noticeable to Angelica’s psychic detection as they would be passively connected to the group that was actively seeking her location. The group understood the plan without speaking further as they all became mentally linked and the eldritch bonds of the séance strengthened.

  The cluster uttered the incantation, “Inde Aethere nunc revertetur ad terram santuary” The invocation returned the members to Earth and their places around the table. Gerrard, Thomas and Lord Oswald each took two silver necklaces, wrapping one around the binding chain on the table and then placing an identical necklace around their own necks. The next step to binding the séance table to the hunting party would require the hunters to submerge an alabaster vial in the pool at their feet. Once full of water and the lids secured, the small vials were then attached to the silver chain around their necks.

  Lord Oswald was the first to step from the pool after returning to the terrestrial plane. Guild Master Saint-Yves followed, and then finally Seer Thomas. The Trio dried their feet, donned footwear and ascended upstairs out onto the street. The three ran to the waiting steam carriage as a torrential downpour had just begun.

  9:30 PM Silkwood and Company

  Jimmy stood alone in the recessed door way of one of the shops. He breathed deeply to take in the scent of fresh rain. There was a short time after a good downpour in London that cleansed the air and freshened the city. He watched the rooftop horizon looking for one of his Triad brethren as he made his way to the furnace exhaust for that building. The furnace was churning so hard he could pick it out from the street by its large plume and the size of the pipe in comparison to the smaller heating chimneys hooked to coal stoves of homes and offices in the housing block.

  On Thursday Jimmy sent a triad affiliate, a regular at Silkwood and Company to retrieve prices to recut stones from Simon. The real purpose was to confirm that they were working the smelter flat strap. As a bonus his scout spied several packing crates from Venice lined up along the back of the cramped shop, validating that this was the gold he was looking for.

  Jimmy observed the silhouette of his man against the moonlight as he knocked the cap off the exhaust pipe then stuffed a wooden plug into the pipe, giving it a good wallop with a mallet. As his man eased his way down Jimmy looked at his pocket watch. Now he just needed to wait.

  There was only one way in or out of that shop through a large iron and oak door.

  9:40 PM The Streets of London

  In the back of the steam carriage Gerrard Saint-Yves sat in silent meditation. His back to the driver and the passenger partition open to allow the driver to hear the directions recited by the Guild Master. Oswald and Thomas contemplated in solitude, encouraging Gerrard to concentrate. Each held awe of his ability to maintain a spiritual connection to the séance at such a distance and in a moving vehicle. Both had lost the connection miles ago.

  Yet in his mind’s eye The Guild Master and those at the séance were detached spirits floating over the city of London looking down for hot spots of arcane power. Seer Moreau and Saint-Yves hovered while Blatavsky and Welsh swooped over the city in astral form searching for sites of intense arcane energy. Moreau acted as conduit to Gerrard feeding him the collective’s results as it taxed both of their capacity to hold true the link.

  Gerard watched as the astral forms flitted across the skyline invisible to the human eye. When a street or building looked promising Madame Blatavsky or Crosby Welsh would swoop down to inspect the location further. It was Crosby who spotted the house first and began to move toward it as he closed in. Gerard spoke, “Go across the river. Make haste.”

  The entire astral network sensed he had found a powerful locus of arcana. Madame Blatavsky stopped searching and altered her path towards the location Crosby continued to investigate having reformed his spectral essence in the middle of the street just as a horse drawn handy passed, the horse brayed as it passed through his spirit form.

  Gerrard pleaded get me the address his thoughts passed through the network to Crosby. He looked for landmarks and signs. Pilton Street the four hundred block trickled back through the aether bouncing up and down the spiritual network.

  Crosby’s projection looked down the street and saw a woman with short black hair in a long grey and red coat observing the same address. As he began to move toward the dwelling his ethereal form confidently marched closer to see who was the resident.

  Gerrard snapped out of his trance eyes wide open with a gasp as if he had nearly suffocated. “Driver get to 412 Pilton Road as fast as you can.”

  9:50 PM Silkwood and Company

  The steam lorry was stoked and ready to engage. Parked facing away from the shop perpendicular to the street Silkwood was located on. Jimmy approached the truck pushing aside the canvas curtain covering the back end and jumped in together with the three other men He quickly looked back between the canvas storage cover to confirm his man from the roof snuffed the gas lamps on the street to darken both roads.

  They all waited for the Silkwood door to open. Still nothing. "What are these guys, fish, don't they need air?" said Rooftop in Mandarin.

  "Aww, fuck me dead,” said Jimmy.

  Rooftop and the others tried to push. “Get back you cow cuds, it’s a fucking copper,” he whispered.

  A single officer, was strolling his beat. He walked leisurely down the cobble stone avenue peering in shop windows. All the jewelers cleared inventory from the windows into strong boxes overnight so there was nothing to see. He looked closely to observe movement, like people in the shops that shouldn’t be.

  Jimmy turned to his crew. “If the copper gets in the way don't kill him, put a bag over his head and kick him in the pollywogs so he stays down.”

  They all nodded.

  The Bobbie stopped and noticed that a street lamp was out near the shop. Glancing up, he pulled out his notebook and began to write down that lamp number noting it’s non-working condition. Just then the door to the Silkwood's burst open by two men assisting an unconscious man out of the building.

  9:55 PM Pilton Road

  Rose stood at the street corner and gazed at the townhouse two doors up the street. The street lights reflected in the puddles and sheen left on the streets from the recent storm. She doned scrying goggles and adjusted the lenses to check for wards. Rather than seeing the glyphs or symbols of both western and Egyptian omens illuminated, she observed streaks and glimmers around the house.

  At that moment, an astral form caught her eye standing in the street just where a carriage had passed. It was the shape of a middle-aged man, he looked English striding towards the home. Rose was impressed to see such a strong image. She had projected many times but only to other planes, momentarily and with extensive support from arcane instruments and objects. She changed her lenses and adjusted the resolution. The streaks around the house became spirit shades and apparitions of the dead, and the glimmers were dozens of flickering points of the aether breaching into the mortal realm. Angelica’s defenses were pure, raw and unbreakable.

  When the Englishman’s apparition passed through the garden gate the arcane defenses solidified. The entire front garden was filled with apparitions of those that had died at or near the location, men, women, children of all ages in various states of decay. The randomly moving spirits coalesced to block the Englishman’s path into the flat. An ancient Briton warrior grasping a spear and thatched shield stood resolutely in his way.

  It was a surprise the gentlemen when he tried to pass through the other apparitions but was blocked just as if he had walked into a material object. He tried to push through a second-time, but the Bri
ton warrior, showing a grin of rotting teeth gave the Englishman the full brunt of his weight when he slammed into him with his shield. The English spiritualist fell to the ground. For Rose, it was like watching one of those new moving stereoscope pictures silently flickering images playing out a tragic scene. She could do nothing more than stand by as the spirit guard of Angelica tore the astral projection to pieces. While all Rose could hear was the summer breeze rustling down the lane what she observed on the man’s face was terror and anguish. Looking back to the street she saw a second astral projection. Rose recognized the woman who floated just above the street as Madame Blatavsky, a local spiritualist. Blatavsky looked in Rose’s direction then flew away.

  “Well here goes plan B,” Rose muttered to herself,” pulling her goggles down around her neck and walking towards the residence. Plan A was to approach with stealth. She wore her long crimson coat, it’s lining sewn with threads pulled from the death shrouds of sixteen saints and imbued with incantations of safe passage and protection. On past investigations, Rose had found the cloak to provide not only protection by camouflage from those wielding the arcane, but after what she just saw she wasn’t sure if the coat would afford any type of protection at all so she might as well just stroll up and announce herself.

  As she crossed the street she felt a vibration on her belt. It was her arcana circulata, a warning device and directional locator for supernatural energy. She opened the case and looked at the direction and intensity dial. The intensity was pegged, not a surprise after witnessing the wards the Priestess had erected. What befuddled her was that the directional indicator was spinning versus pointing at the townhouse. Must look at that in the workshop.

  Rose opened the garden gate and stepped onto the property knowing she was within the scope of the priestess’ magic.

  Rose slowly ascended steps up to the front door, expecting some type of snare or curse. Instead as she made footfall on the landing the front door creaked opened slowly.

  Rose stuck her head in the doorway taking notice of how nicely illuminated the rooms were all installed with the latest arc lamps.

  “Come on back, I is in the parlor,” came a female voice, in a West Indies accent.

  As Rose stepped into the ornate room she saw a stunning woman with a deep brown skin tone and a perfect mix of African and European facial features. She wore a hand painted silk kimono with a high neck lace blouse underneath. Her hair was not pinned up but left down long, lush and flowing. The woman sat in a high back chair. Resting against the chair was a primitive staff of warped and petrified wood decorated with feathers and beads. Five human skulls rested at the top, one above another skewered by the staff.

  “Please have a seat. When God created time, he made a lot of it,” Angelica said as she shuffled tarot cards.

  “You must be Ms. Angelica du Haiti?” Rose declared as she made her way to the chair opposite Angelica.

  She waited. “You are Angelica du Haiti?”

  “Sister Caldwell, some know me by that name, I prefer Angelica de Moya. Welcome. Would you please cut the cards?” The priestess requested setting the deck down in front of Rose.

  “Moya?” Rose said as she cut the deck.

  While she laid out the cards face down Angelica spoke.” I am the only daughter of Don Ernesto de Moya and a Haitian woman. Years after Don Hernando’s first wife died of yellow fever he fell in love with my mother. Choose a card.”

  Rose turned over the Magician card. “Mastery of the material world, self-discipline and a willingness to take risks,” said Angelica, a thoughtful frown crossed her face as she examined Rose letting the meaning of the card settle in.

  Angelica turned over the Priestess. Rose knew the meaning of this card -Intuition, wisdom and secret knowledge.

  “Pick another card, Rose” pressed Angelica. Rose flipped over the Tower. Angelica tapped the tarot as she recounted meaning. “A powerful selection, something remains yet to be revealed, but patience must be observed. Duality and mystery. Hidden influences, disruption. Conflict. Change. Sudden violent loss. Overthrow of an existing way of life.”

  Rose’s hand was still on the card. Angelica placed her finger on the back of Rose’s hand and with that she was sent to another time and place.

  10:02 PM Silkwood & Co.

  Rooftop banged on the back of the van. The driver released the clutch and reversed the truck. Watching in the side mirror the driver positioned the truck right up onto the sidewalk so Jimmy and his thugs could jump out right in front of Silkwood.

  The bandits had wrapped scarves around their faces and wore wool caps, even Jimmy was dressed down, looking like a common cockney hoodlum.

  The shocked officer saw the back of the truck barrel towards him stopping a foot from him any comfort there was in not getting hit by the truck went away when Rooftop kicked the cop in the head sending him to the pavement. He and another guy leapt on him put a bag over his head then Rooftop punched the copper right in the solar plexus. The poor bastard was sucking so much air from the punch that the bag moved in and out of his mouth.

  Jimmy's goons bagged the heads of the Silkwood workers. who dropped their unconscious coworker to fight off the thugs. Jimmy’s gang were seasoned street fighters and quickly dealt with the jewelers with one getting a knee to the groin and the other a blackjack to the head, both hit the ground moaning and groaning. “Stay down or you'll get your head caved in, this will all be over soon and you will be safe if you don't act a hero,” yelled Jimmy.

  The gang strode into Silkwood and company. “You two, grab a crate and get the fuck out, there is no air in here.” said Jimmy. One of the goons said, "we should have worn gas masks.”

  “Grab a box, sheep dip. Gas masks only filter out gas, if there is no oxygen in the room you will still pass out," Jimmy growled as he slapped him in the back of his head.

  When Jimmy walked in they still had not completed smelting all the gold. There were four full crates, far more than the 1,450 the counterfeit paper worked showed then the gangster realized they would strike the new ingots first before paying off the help with the gold. The gold was in various stages, some still Guineas, some cooling in molds and more in a crucible in the furnace. "Grab those crates" yelled Jimmy. He and Rooftop grabbed a crate by its rope handle and carried it out to the truck.

  On his way, back in Jimmy stood on the cop's neck. "Any bloke looking to be a hero will get his medal posthumously."

  “I hear ya, mate,” moaned the cop.

  The four men made the second trip from inside the shop to the back of the truck. Jimmy grabbed a handful of the gold guineas and shoved them in his pocket. After he threw the last crate onto the bed of the truck he and Rooftop stalked over to the Policemen and the workers on the ground and put a Guinea in each of their pockets. “Now you blokes may think about jumping up and taking the bag off your head… but don’t do it. Not until you don’t hear the rumble of my car boiler. Cause I’ll be looking out the window with my pistol pointed back at you and will shoot whoever moves,” after leaving them with that thought Jimmy jumped into the back of the vehicle. With a hiss of steam as the bypass vented and re-pressurized the piston the lorrie and Sir Francis Chilton's gold drove away.

  10:05 PM Pilton Road

  Dolly waited, positioned in the driver’s seat of the steam cruiser, Detective Burton providing back up in the passenger seat.

  Dolly watched Rose walk across the street, it was hard to miss a woman wearing pants let alone one striking such a confident stride, and then of course there was the harness she rigged up to access her adventuring gear.

  “Well that one sticks out like dog's balls. Is that Sister Rose?” asked Burton.

  "Indeed, it is. She sent me a wire-type of her discovery, the location of Angelica du Haiti at 412 Pilton Road,” replied Dolly.

  “Well let’s get in there” implored Burton, as he went for the door of the carriage to get out. Dolly grabbed his arm, “We are going to give her a little time to souse out the situation.
” On one hand Dolly was being truthful, Rose was better suited to confronting the sorceress, on the other he wanted to give Rose the time she needed to learn what she wanted from Angelica. He felt he owed her that given that she tipped him off to the location. He would be feeling a lot more comfortable if he was sitting next to Keane. He rarely felt fear, or such a lack of control, but he was going up against an enemy who could bend people to her will, and turn friend into foe. Maybe Rose would get further reasoning with her, he could give Rose five minutes before he went in to arrest Angelica.

  The senior detective observed Rose as she stopped in the road then using her goggles to look up and down the street before continuing into the house. Burton interrupted the silence in the car, "You know that we all think you a little batty and verging on the heretical consorting with her."

  There’s that judgement again, just like Keane. Maybe rather than conceal the truth I should share it. Dolly, opened up to the young detective “I keep a confidential journal, mainly to check my sanity, but it also serves me if I am required to share some of the strange and fantastic things I have dealt with. Included are my notes from the St. Anthony Home for Boys.”

  "You worked the Milton Affair?" replied Burton, who was the newest addition to the detective branch and not even a street constable when Dolly worked the case.

  "I did. I was a Sergeant, this was before the detective’s branch. We were pulling boys out of the rivers, all strangled between the ages of eight and twelve. Strange thing was, no one was reporting any missing children. For months, we had nothing and the frequency of dead boys was increasing. Finally, I had a break when we found two bodies in the same week, one on shore and a floater pulled out by a boat on the river. I had been plotting the body locations and drew a conclusion that the source had to be up stream. I figured it to be a poor house or orphanage where there was no parent to miss the child. I canvased the city and began looking at two locations, St. Anthony being one. I interviewed Father Milton and at the time he seemed like a good bloke, even gave me access to his records, and everything checked out. While I'm there I run into this young nun and she tells me that I need to look further into Father Milton. I just assumed that she worked there so I start doing some digging and get a whole heap of pushback from the archdiocese.”