Thaumatology 05 - Disturbia

by Teasdale, Niall

  ‘You destroyed the one who killed me,’ Julia’s said, her voice harsh.

  ‘Yes,’ Ceri said. ‘He was going to feed someone else to the same demon. And me for that matter.’

  ‘You took away my chance for retribution.’ The ghost reached out a hand and suddenly it was as though something had gripped Ceri’s skull in a vice. Ceri let out a cry of pain and reacted; energy flared in her hand and shot toward Julia. It passed clean through; the bitch was not solid enough to hit! ‘Your life is forfeit. My vengeance will not be denied.’ Something which felt like an iron band clamped around Ceri’s chest. She gasped as the tension on her neck started to increase. She figured she had seconds before her neck dislocated and her spinal cord snapped.

  Reaching out, she summoned all the power she could mass and poured it into Julia’s body. For a second, as she felt the muscles in her neck fighting to remain attached to her bones, she thought she was done for. Then Julia’s body solidified and she fell into the lake. Her grip on Ceri went with the sudden emersion. Struggling to remain on her feet, Ceri was still ready when Julia’s head broke above the water; the second thaumic bolt hit the solidified ghost squarely in the face.

  Ceri dropped to her knees, wincing at the jarring her neck took. She was fairly sure Alexandra would be out soon and then her Alpha could heal her torn muscles. The problem was that Ceri was fairly sure that she had once again stopped Julia for now. Out on the lake she could see energy flowing, winding upward into the night sky and flowing back to the ghost’s focus location. She would be back.

  ‘I’m going to have to put you to rest, Julia,’ Ceri said to the last wisps of thaumitons fleeing from the lake. ‘Somehow.’

  Shepherd’s Bush, September 1st

  Kate looked a little uncomfortable standing outside the old church which had, until recently, been home to the Leather Palace. ‘I’m not best pleased to be back here,’ she said as Ceri and Lily walked up from the road. ‘The place makes me uneasy. I get the feeling Julia was hardly the first girl he’s supplied to that demon.’

  Ceri nodded. ‘I think you’re right, but I’m still hoping I can get a feel for her here.’

  ‘John’s already down there,’ Kate said. ‘He doesn’t think the place is creepy. First time I’ve ever felt like being normal would be a good idea.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll let this place re-open?’ Lily asked as they walked through the main hall to the crypts.

  ‘Depends on whether they can get enough evidence together to prosecute,’ Kate said. ‘There are no license violations, the business pays its taxes as far as we can tell, everyone coming here does it voluntarily… well aside from the ones Newton was taking downstairs. If we can’t prove they knew what Newton was doing, they’ll likely get off with a warning about screening their clients better.’ She paused half way down the stairs. ‘Though Health and Safety might come down on them like a ton of bricks.’

  They stepped under police tape to get into the chamber where Newton had done his summoning and found John standing looking at the carved summoning circle in the floor. He looked up as he heard their footsteps on the stone. ‘So she’s not gone, and she seems to think you deserve to die for killing her killer?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ceri replied, ‘that’s about the size of it.’

  ‘Suddenly I’m happier that you didn’t call in backup,’ John said.

  Ceri gave him a wry grin. ‘I never thought you were a glass-half-full kind of guy.’

  John raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? I stayed married to a woman who got turned into a vampire.’ He had a point. ‘What are you hoping to do?’

  ‘Well, it’s sort of psychometry,’ Ceri said. ‘Julia’s death was… violent…’

  ‘That’s something of an understatement,’ John commented.

  ‘It should have left an impression here,’ Ceri went on, ignoring him, ‘and I’m hoping that I can use that to track down where her body is. Then we can lay her to rest.’

  Kate was frowning. ‘Are you sure you want to do that?’

  ‘I tried to argue her out of it,’ Lily said.

  ‘Why?’ John said, looking confused.

  Ceri settled herself into the middle of the circle, lying down. ‘I’m going to tap into some rather raw, emotional events. I’m hoping I won’t be experiencing them too directly.’

  ‘She died,’ John said.

  ‘I know, John.’

  ‘I saw the film,’ he added, the alarm becoming more apparent. ‘You saw the film. You want to go through that?’

  ‘No,’ Ceri said. ‘Could you and Kate wait outside? I’m attuned to Lily, but you two will interfere.’

  John looked irritated, but he followed Kate out of the room while Lily sat down beside Ceri, cross-legged, and took her mistress’ hand. ‘This is going to hurt, isn’t it?’ Lily said.

  ‘I hope not,’ Ceri replied softly. ‘You ready?’

  ‘Hold on,’ Lily said. Rummaging in her bag she pulled out two of Twill’s wooden spoons, placing one between Ceri’s teeth. ‘Just in case,’ she said, and gripped the second one in her own mouth. She nodded and Ceri closed her eyes.

  It would be much faster than her attempt to get information on Brenin’s skull at Stonehenge. She was delving back no more than a year, probably only a few months, rather than the millennia she had gone back then. As she allowed her mind to sink into the stone beneath her back she reflected on the other part of the spell; closer to the events, there would be more detail. Ceri opened her mind, tentatively, hesitantly, and at first there was nothing aside from the cold stone. Then…

  The pain was indescribable, but her mind refused to leave it at that and tried to come up with a way of classifying it. Lily’s hand tightened violently around her own as the sensation of being almost split in two flooded over their link. This was the reason Ceri had wanted the detectives out of the room; the connection between the couple would have been far too obvious. Lily was making tiny mewling noises, but Ceri could barely hear them over the roaring in her ears.

  Ceri managed to narrow her focus, pulling inward toward Julia’s assault. The pain fell away in sudden jumps as the demon’s victims were isolated, but even closing in on only one and sharing the agony across both of them, Ceri could barely think. It was not simply the pain; narrowing in on Julia let them get a sense of the whole experience. They had seen it on a screen, but this was far more direct. Now they could feel it, as though they were there. There was the initial feeling of numb subservience and then the absolute, overwhelming terror took over. Trapped, weak, paralysed by fear, Julia had done nothing to defend herself as the demon violated her in every way possible. The pain had not stopped as it threw her aside, a broken doll which lay on the stone still alive but slowly dying of internal injuries. Bleeding…

  Ceri sat up, clutching convulsively at Lily, and they clung to each other for what seemed like hours, not exactly crying because it hurt too much for tears. ‘Julia was right about one thing,’ Ceri whispered. ‘He died far too easy.’

  ‘Did it work?’ Lily asked. ‘Do you think you can find her?’

  Ceri nodded against Lily’s shoulder. ‘I think the pain is the focus. I can follow her pain.’ Taking a shuddering breath, she sat up, leaning away from her pet and favouring her with a weak smile. ‘Thanks, love. If I’d tried that alone I think my mind would’ve caved in.’ Lily just smiled; like there was any way she would let Ceri go through that alone. Yeah, right.

  River Thames, Chiswick

  They had ended up calling in the River Police to get them over to the island in the Thames known as the Chiswick Eyot. ‘It’s possible to walk over at low tide,’ the pilot had said as he guided the boat across from the bank. ‘The channel on the north side is only passable by small craft at high tide.’

  Dropped off at the northern point of the island, Ceri walked down through the scrub to the southern end before stopping, looking down at the shallow water. ‘She washed up here.’ Kate and John looked around, seeing nothing. ‘He threw he
r in upriver,’ Ceri added, ‘and she was washed down and landed on the beach there at high tide.’ Walking down to the water’s edge, Ceri squatted down, placing her hand on the pebbles. Closing her eyes and searching for the traces of Julia’s passing.

  ‘There’s nothing here now,’ John said, sounding impatient.

  ‘She lay here for… several hours. The second low tide after she washed up. Then someone came to collect her.’

  ‘Who?’ Kate asked.

  Ceri shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I’m tracking her.’

  ‘All right,’ John said, ‘where to now?’

  Straightening up, Ceri turned and then pointed, roughly south-west. ‘That way. A long way that way. Outside London.’

  ‘We’d better get back to the car,’ John said and Ceri winced; she was not going to enjoy this.

  London Road, near Camberley, Surrey

  Going down the M3 at motorway speeds, they had gone past junction three before Ceri realised that the place they were going to was rapidly becoming well off to their right. Getting off at junction four, they had backtracked past Camberley and the gates of the Sandhurst Academy and continued on at a slower pace up London Road toward Bagshot. This was rich people country, certainly the land of people with money. Trees lined the road and there was the occasional sighting of a large house, mostly hidden by the woods.

  ‘There!’ Ceri said suddenly. ‘Take that lane.’

  John snapped the indicator on and dodged left into a small road leading through the trees. ‘Are you sure about this?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Ceri replied. ‘Up ahead. Maybe three or four hundred yards. Why?’

  ‘This road leads to Alexander Holloway’s house.’

  ‘Julia’s father?’ Lily asked. ‘I thought he’d cracked up.’

  ‘He did,’ Kate replied. ‘When I visited I spent most of my time talking to his nurse. He just sat in a big chair and stared at the fire.’

  ‘I don’t think we can go in and accuse an incapacitated man who’s just lost his daughter of bringing her back as an avenging spirit,’ John said, ‘especially when he’s a normal.’

  ‘I’m not accusing anyone of anything,’ Ceri said. ‘All I’m saying is that the trail leads here.’

  John grunted his displeasure, but pulled the car up in front of the large house at the end of what Ceri guessed was actually a drive. The house looked… haunted. Not the way High Towers looked haunted because an illusion gave it old broken windows with cobwebs in. This house just felt like it had seen too much tragedy. There were ghosts behind the windows, as well as thick curtains which were drawn closed in the middle of the afternoon.

  The front door opened as they approached and a small, matronly woman who looked like she could lift a car appeared. She watched them walking up the steps to the large portico and her eyes fell on Kate. ‘Detective Middleshaw? You’re back. Is there news?’

  Kate nodded at the woman. ‘Mrs Broome, this is my partner, Detective Inspector Radcliffe. And Ceridwyn Brent and Lily Carpenter. They’re Special Advisors with the Met.’

  ‘I… see,’ Mrs Broome said, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. ‘Well, I suppose you’d better come in.’

  ‘We just dropped by in the hope of seeing Mister Holloway,’ Ceri said. Her Sight was showing her that the nurse was about as magical as a lump of lead. The house had no wards at all, suggesting that no one inside it had ever had any supernatural abilities. ‘There’s a chance that I may be able to at least find his daughter’s body.’

  The reaction was immediate and hopeful. ‘Oh could you? I think that might really help put his mind at rest.’ If she knew about the body Ceri was fairly sure was in the cellar, she was a good actress. ‘How would you do that?’

  ‘Law of Sympathy,’ Ceri said. ‘I can take an impression of him and use the similarity to find her. Does the house have a cellar?’

  Mrs Broome blinked at the sudden change of subject. ‘No. Why?’

  Ceri smiled. ‘It’s a thaumatology thing. Getting an idea of the size of the building.’

  They were led into a dark room at the front of the house. It had a large fireplace, lit even though the weather outside was warm. Ceri shivered; there was a chill in the air, or perhaps something else. Her sight showed her the odd, faint field of magic around the huge painting mounted over the mantelpiece; a classical painting showing a Grecian woman with wide, black wings mounted on her back. The field seemed to have no real focus or purpose, it just was. Possibly it was just the result of age and people looking at it; there were examples of artefacts absorbing energy from those around them and the painting looked old.

  Alexander Holloway sat in a wing-backed, leather chair in front of the fire. His legs were wrapped in a blanket and he looked like he was wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown. He was probably less than fifty, but he had the look of someone much, much older. Stepping up to him, Ceri knew she was going to get nothing of use from him; Alexander Holloway was not there. Between the three median nodes in his head there should have been a filmy, white field of energy, his spirit. There was nothing there, no matter how close she looked, she could see nothing. His soul seemed to be intact, but his spirit and mind were gone.

  She frowned. She had almost missed it, but there it was. There were thin, almost imperceptible strands of grey around Holloway’s Chakral Median. Like Newton these did not originate at Muladhara, but these ones spread from Ajna, where the missing spirit should have attached to the back of his head.

  Ceri straightened up and smiled at Mrs Broome. ‘Thank you, ma’am, I’ve got all I need for now.’ She saw John’s raised eyebrow, but he said nothing and she ignored him as she headed for the front door.

  John waited until they were driving back down the drive before speaking. ‘You didn’t ask him anything?’

  ‘There was no point,’ Ceri replied. ‘He wasn’t home.’

  Kennington

  ‘Did you see that painting over the fire?’ Lily asked. She had been quiet most of the way back to High Towers and had been sitting in silence on the chaise longe. Ceri could tell she was not upset or anything; the first thing she had done on getting home was stripping off her clothes with a sigh.

  Ceri lifted the book she was reading and showed Lily the woodcut which took up the entire verso page. ‘I saw it,’ she said. The woodcut was of a figure which looked kind of like an angel, winged and female as you often saw in art, but the shading suggested black wings and the face carried a horrifying grimace.

  ‘A really mean angel?’ Lily suggested.

  ‘It’s an Erinyes,’ Ceri explained. ‘They were the Greek goddesses of vengeance. Some say they were born from the blood of Uranus after his son Cronus castrated him and cast his genitals into the ocean.’ Lily grimaced slightly and Ceri added, ‘The Greeks always seemed to love their gruesome myths. The other legend says they were the children of Nyx, the goddess of the Night.’

  ‘So, Holloway has a painting of one of these Erinyes hanging over his fireplace, and his daughter comes back from the dead seeking vengeance?’ Lily summed up Ceri’s thinking quite well. ‘The coincidence seems excessively large. Especially since that painting was magical.’

  ‘Really low level though,’ Ceri said. ‘Stronger than your sensory field but still pretty weak.’

  Lily shrugged. ‘The effect my father had on me was imperceptible and look what that did. Is there anything else in there about these things?’

  Ceri looked back down at the book. ‘Cthonic deities of vengeance… known to the Romans as the Furies… Um, their numbers are unknown, but Virgil said there were three, Alecto, Magaera, and Tisiphone. Supposedly Tisiphone punished those responsible for murder.’

  ‘Tisiphone?’ Lily asked. ‘Like Tis-I-phone?’ Ceri nodded. ‘That was the name of the painting,’ Lily told her. ‘It was on a little plaque at the bottom, “Tisiphone by Hadrian de la Vasco.”’

  Ceri frowned. ‘I feel like I should know that name.’

  ‘He was a painter, obviousl
y,’ Twill said from just behind Ceri’s ear. Both full-sized women jumped.

  ‘Twill!’ Ceri shrieked. ‘I nearly had a heart attack!’

  The fairy made a “humph!” noise and said, ‘Well if you don’t want my help…’

  ‘I do,’ Ceri said, ‘just not so suddenly and right behind my ear.’

  Wind chimes drifted through the air as Twill laughed. ‘Perhaps I was a little abrupt. De la Vasco was a little known member of the Pre-Raphaelites, or one of those associated with them. Born in Italy, worked in London from about eighteen-fifty, but his best work was in the year before he died in eighteen fifty-eight. He came upon a new love, a muse. He claimed her influence drove him to levels none other could, and he may have been right considering that the five paintings he did in that year are very highly sought.’

  Lily frowned. ‘How do you know this, Twill?’

  The fairy smiled. ‘His muse was a Leannan Sidhe, well, a half-blood. Some of them could survive in the magical field before the Shattering. He bought his talent with his life. Classic tale told at Court.’ She waved a hand at the woodcut in Ceri’s book. ‘He tended to be big on Classical period Greek subjects, if I remember correctly and it’s likely that some of the Sidhe’s magic rubbed off in his work, even though it would have been largely inactive back then.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you know where we could find any of those five pictures?’ Ceri asked.

  ‘No,’ Twill replied, grinning, ‘but isn’t that what that “interminable net” thing is for?’

  Ceri winced; not at Twill’s abuse of the word “Internet,” but at the fact the fairy had to remind her about it.

  South Kensington, September 2nd

  ‘That’s it?’ Lily asked. The painting they had found was hardly the eight-foot canvas Holloway owned. This one was barely two feet in height and a little over a foot wide, a simple portrait of a woman with blonde hair wound into an elaborate bun.

  ‘She’s beautiful though,’ Ceri said. She was, almost in the same way that Lily was. High cheekbones and a small chin, large, dark eyes and highly arched eyebrows. ‘Of course, there’s no way to know if he caught her image, or his perception of her image.’