by Tara Moss
She had been trying to lead me somewhere, hadn’t she? I couldn’t help but think it had something to do with her sudden appearance in the mansion.
‘And I’d really like to get out of this corridor,’ I added. ‘I think it tried to trick me.’
This is it.
After emerging from the strange, twisting corridor and going back up the lift, the way we were familiar with, Luke and I made our way through Celia’s antechamber and down the stone staircase on the other side. We followed the stairway down several floors, and I noted an odd instinct to turn back (one I ignored), then Lieutenant Luke led me through a short, hidden corridor to a large wooden door.
‘I believe it is here,’ Lieutenant Luke said. He looked uneasy.
I was out of breath and frankly I didn’t fancy my chances of finding the doorway on my own, yet I sensed that the corridor I’d been lost in earlier – the corridor I hadn’t wanted to continue along – led precisely here. Perhaps it hadn’t wanted me to find what was behind this door? Perhaps that was why I felt these conflicting urges to explore the basement or simply run off?
I fished the skeleton key from my pocket, Lieutenant Luke’s presence comforting at my back. The lock in the door looked rusty. Biting my lip, I bent at the knees and carefully pushed the key inside. It took a moment of jiggling, but eventually the key slid all the way in. Luke and I exchanged looks. I took a breath and turned the key. The tumblers inside the lock shifted with a series of audible squeaks. I pushed on the heavy door with one shoulder, the movement bringing up a puff of dust. It made me pause to cough, though Luke, at least in his current form, seemed unbothered by it. On seeing that I would open the door, he immediately passed through it to check what was on the other side, and when I pushed the door fully open and stepped in, he was already standing stiffly next to a long metal table.
‘Are you okay, Miss Pandora?’ he asked. His eyes glowed blue in the dark space.
I nodded and covered my mouth. ‘I don’t think anyone has been down here for . . . for decades at least,’ I said through my fingers. ‘Probably more like a century.’
So this is Barrett’s laboratory. The one he spent so much time in, hidden away from his lonely wife . . .
I held the torch in front of me and, squinting, took a step forward. A table held some rectangular object, covered in a dusty cloth. Another table held what looked like glass bottles – no, beakers. Luke was standing next to what appeared to be a large stainless steel tray in the centre of the room, though it was bare. Actually, it wasn’t so stainless, I noted. Maybe they hadn’t invented ‘stainless steel’ back when this thing was made.
Surely there had to be electricity down here? I groped around in the low light, swinging my torch from side to side.
There. A switch by the door.
I grabbed it and found it surprisingly hard to pull up the switch. After a bit of resistance it flicked into place. There was a loud, quick buzz, then all was silent for a second.
What the . . .?
The space began to light up. Tubes and metal coils were strung between glass beakers, many of which now lit up like Christmas lights, flashing red and green. The room filled with a steady, rhythmic mechanical hum. It was rising up from the equipment. Some of the beakers had begun to steam. I jumped back as a large wheel next to me started to turn, cobwebs caught up in it like spinning yarn.
‘Maybe I should shut that off.’ I leapt for the switch. Who knew what the equipment was for or what it might do? I pulled the switch down, using all the strength in my arm, and in seconds the room went quiet and dark.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘I think I’ve found the light switch,’ Luke said.
My torch was still lit (thank goodness) and I walked over to him and flicked on the switch he’d found. A huge circular light came on over the steel table in the middle of the room.
‘Is that a surgery table . . . or . . .?’
Weird.
The whole place was weird. There were stacks of books and papers strewn about, and glass containers of all kinds. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust and the liquid in most of the beakers had dried up on the bottom, though some of them still had just enough left to let off some bubbling steam. Jars were filled with dark liquid, like formaldehyde. I noticed a whole green frog floating in one, lifeless and alien looking. One item in particular gave me shivers – a large metal chair, fitted with thick leather straps and buckles. Spikes on the chair seemed connected to cables and electrodes of some kind. I shuddered to think what it was used for.
‘Dr Edmund Barrett’s laboratory. I’ve heard so much about it. I didn’t know what to expect,’ I said.
According to Celia, Barrett had hidden this space away from his wife. She hadn’t known the nature of some of his experiments, or perhaps she had known and disapproved of them or was distressed by what he was doing. In any event, it seemed he’d sealed his laboratory away where it was hard to find.
‘Look,’ Luke said.
At one end of the room was a doorway, set ajar. I joined Luke and peered into a small study, charred black on two of the four walls, from where a fire of some kind had whipped through. Or perhaps not whipped through, exactly. Was this where Barrett had died, supposedly of spontaneous combustion?
‘I think this is where Dr Barrett passed into the other world,’ Lieutenant Luke said, echoing my thoughts.
I nodded. ‘It certainly appears so.’
Celia told me his journals had been destroyed in the fire, along with all of Dr Barrett – except his feet and shoes. When they’d found him there had been nothing else but ashes left, apparently.
Books were scattered about the study in haphazardly stacked piles. I wondered if someone had tried to tidy the space after the fire, or if Barrett had simply stored his books that way. One interesting book sat on the edge of the lightly charred desk, though it was in reasonably good condition. Transcendental Magic, its doctrine and ritual by Eliphas Levi, it said. The title intrigued me. I picked it up and tucked it under my arm, thinking it might make an interesting addition to Celia’s library.
‘Miss Pandora, can we leave now?’
I looked at Luke and saw his concerned expression. ‘What is it?’
‘I do not wish to seem a coward, but I do not like this place. I feel that I should not be here.’
I felt it, too. The urge to leave. Yet my desire to learn more about Barrett and the house outweighed the instinct to flee. ‘Is it not safe?’ I asked.
‘For me, I fear it is not.’
Lieutenant Luke had not wanted to seek this place out at all, I reminded myself. Now that I knew where it was and that the skeleton key fitted the lock, I could return at another time without him. (If I could find it again.)
‘We can go if you like.’
He nodded and I wondered again what he was afraid of.
Luke followed me out through the laboratory. I turned the light off as we went, and locked the door after us. How intriguing to think that the man who had designed this strange and extraordinary house had spent so long locked away in that space, and yet no one had wanted to – or dared to – make use of all that equipment and all those books since.
‘Enough exploring for now. Come with me,’ I said and took Luke’s ghostly hand, which felt cool and misty in mine.
I wanted to bring him up to my room so we could sit and chat as we used to, and perhaps even figure out what had gone wrong when we’d embarked on that ill-fated date of ours. I led Luke back up the staircase that snaked through this end of the house, the stone passages lit with heavy, wrought-iron torches, the flames throwing shadows against the old stone walls. ‘It’s so interesting that Barrett built all these secret passages, don’t you think? It’s like the residential part of the house is totally separate,’ I remarked as we climbed through the passages that connected the two halves of the house. ‘Barrett probably didn’t want guests to stumble across what he was doing. Can you imagine? I mean, what or who did he strap
into that chair? Or perhaps you saw all that in your time here?’
Luke was silent. I stopped and turned. ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him, still holding his hand.
Lieutenant Luke nodded in reply, but the gentle vulnerability in his eyes was too much to resist. I instinctively embraced him, tucking the book and torch into his lower back, my position on the stairs making us a similar height for once. ‘I’m sorry. Thanks for leading me to the laboratory,’ I said. ‘I’ve been really curious about it.’ I pulled back to look at him and in the low light of the torches in the stairwell, his beauty was otherworldly, illuminated as if by romantic candlelight. He still had that sense of tension about him. It had not faded entirely after we had left the lab.
‘Why did you want to leave so urgently?’ I asked.
He looked conflicted and uncertain.
‘Maybe if you feel there is some . . . energy there, it’s because it’s in the basement?’ I postulated. ‘Celia told me never to travel below the basement. I promised her I wouldn’t.’
‘Your great-aunt is wise,’ he told me gravely.
She hadn’t told me why. I had to admit, I was curious.
‘Miss Pandora, promise me too that you won’t go down there below the basement.’
‘Why? What is it?’
‘I cannot say,’ Luke told me.
How frustrating, I thought. ‘Is this one of those supernatural rules?’
‘There are some things I am not permitted to say.’
But you are my spirit guide, I thought. It was no time for a fight though, especially so soon after his return, so I held my tongue.
‘I’m just so glad you came back. I was really worried about you,’ I told him, and put my arms around him again. He fitted his strong arms around my waist and hips and I lay my head on his shoulder for a moment. Now that I was holding him tight, I didn’t want to let go. And the lab and all the things about this strange house that intrigued me so much seemed not to matter.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head to one side, and we kissed right there on the steps. With his cool kiss I felt that wonderful lift he gave me, that rising up inside, which was quite apart from the height advantage of the stair I was on, quite apart from the purely physical. With Lieutenant Luke’s strong hands caressing my waist and his soft mouth on mine, I felt I was floating, I felt I was somewhere else entirely – not in a tight stone stairwell in an old house full of wonders and dark secrets.
Our lips parted and I had no time to enjoy the usual afterglow of our shared caress. I pulled back suddenly, coming back down to earth in an instant.
His ghostly form had stiffened strangely. ‘Luke? Are you okay?’ I asked, opening my eyes.
He brought both his hands to his cap and appeared to squeeze his head.
‘What is it?’
Luke took a step backwards, nearly tripping on the stairs. ‘No . . .’
He took another step back, and opened his eyes.
His eyes glowed green.
‘Your eyes, Luke! What’s happening?’
His stare was cold, terrifying and alien, and before I had the chance to say another word, he lunged forward, grabbing for my throat with both hands. I threw myself back onto the steps, evading his fingers, scrambled to my feet and ran up the stairs with a speed I did not think I was capable of. Something was seriously wrong with him.
I did not slow down until I was pushing up the lid of the casket, desperate for the safety of Celia’s penthouse.
Bending at the knees, I closed the lid, careful not to let it slam, and then I sat on it, listening keenly while tears streamed down my cheeks. My great-aunt’s antechamber was dark, except for the flickering candles. All was quiet below me. Lieutenant Luke had not followed. If he had, he might have been able to pass right through the floor if he wanted to, which was a terrifying thought.
Why had he tried to grab my throat? What was wrong with his eyes?
I closed my eyes tight and tried to calm myself, clutching the old book like a lifeline.
After a few minutes I finally stood up, and with a heavy heart left the hidden portal and made my way to the stone steps leading towards the penthouse. I glanced back at the casket one last time, and on seeing that the lid was safely in place, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway of the penthouse. I locked the door behind me using the skeleton key, hoping that would hold back any unwanted visitors. (Would it?)
I let out an audible exhalation.
Oh, hell, Luke . . .
‘Pandora, darling, are you all right?’ Celia asked.
Feeling heavy, I left the torch by the door and walked to the lounge room, carrying the dusty book I’d found in the strange laboratory. Under the light of her reading lamp and the glow of a moon which still looked close to full, my great-aunt was perched elegantly in her reading chair again. She had been studying an old tome with Freyja curled up next to her and now she looked up and examined my expression. Though Celia could not be found earlier, when Luke and I had walked through, now she seemed not to have moved, yet my life had shifted profoundly.
‘Okay . . . I’m really worried now,’ I said, for lack of a more articulate response to what had just happened.
He reached for my throat!
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Celia said, marking her page.
‘Oh.’ I screwed up my face and rubbed my forehead with one hand. ‘That is very kind but I just don’t think I can have another cup. I think I’m kind of freaking out, actually.’
My great-aunt raised one arched eyebrow and crossed her arms. I guess she didn’t like the rejection a whole lot.
‘I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . well, I found Lieutenant Luke, finally, and what I think was Dr Edmund Barrett’s laboratory. But Luke is not Luke. Or Luke was Luke for a moment, but then . . .’ I rambled, making little sense. ‘Oh, Great-Aunt Celia, I’m so worried. I found him, but he’s not himself,’ I said, and slumped back against the wall. My eyes started to well up again but I tried to calm myself. I was not going to cry anymore. I was not.
I heard Celia stand up and walk across the hardwood floor. Freyja darted over to me to sit at my feet, gazing at me with her big, strange opal eyes. I could swear she wanted to tell me something.
‘He’s just . . . just like a zombie or something,’ I muttered through my fingers, disbelieving. ‘He’s like someone else entirely. He looked at me like he didn’t even know me, and then he tried to attack me.’
Had I done this? By making him leave the house? Had I asked for too much? Had I cursed him?
‘And his eyes! His eyes glowed this horrible green.’
Celia put a cool hand on my shoulder. ‘It sounds like someone or something has possessed your soldier friend,’ she said calmly.
I blinked back the tears that had threatened to return and crossed my arms over my chest. Was that what had happened? ‘What kind of something?’ I asked.
I could tell by the look on her face that she had an idea.
‘Let’s have some tea,’ she replied and turned on her elegant heel. I had to restrain myself from screaming. I desperately wanted to know what she meant, but I knew better than to push Celia. Celia did not allow herself to be hurried by anyone.
She’s not going to let me refuse, is she? ‘Okay,’ I said, resigned to yet more tea.
My wise great-aunt walked into the kitchen, the beautiful fabric of her dress swishing as she moved, and I followed her without another word, feeling more than a little frustrated by this ritual of hers. She put the kettle on and I dutifully opened the cupboard and got out the cups and saucers. We went about our preparations silently, with Freyja pacing at our heels, clearly as impatient as I was. But before long we had the silver tray prepared and the penthouse smelled of aromatic tea leaves. We sat in the lounge room – Celia in her usual reading chair, and me perched on the hassock with Freyja purring in my lap.
‘You have been through a lot this evening,’ Celia said as she carefully poured me a cup of tea and added a ge
nerous amount of milk and honey.
She handed me the cup and I thanked her. It smelled truly wonderful, and though I’d thought I was too stressed out to be able to relax, the first sip made my shoulders drop. The tea tasted sweet and milky compared to the last cup, only a couple of hours earlier, when I’d been upset by the woman hanging from the chandelier. But now seeing the woman in black seemed like nothing.
Luke. Not Luke . . .
I took another sip of the tea and felt my shoulders drop another inch. My great-aunt watched me carefully, I noticed, perhaps deciding whether her calming tea was taking effect.
It was.
‘So you found your soldier but he was not himself?’
I shivered thinking about those eyes – those green eyes. ‘Not at all,’ I said.
‘Well, you are safe now and that is the main thing. I’m sure there is an explanation.’ She took a sip of her tea, her movements languid. ‘What is that book you brought with you?’ she asked casually.
‘Oh yes.’ I’d put it at my feet. ‘I thought you might find this interesting. It’s called Transcendental Magic, its doctrine and ritual.’ I bent and picked it up, shaking the dust off the cover.
‘Magus Eliphas Levi – the pen name of Alphonse Louis Constant, the French occultist. Alphonse did know some things,’ Celia conceded. ‘Though many of his ideas were quite fanciful. He believed that “souls” were sent out in pairs from heaven, and that when a man renounced the love of women, he made the bride who was destined for him a slave of the demons of debauch. No word on what happened to a man when a woman didn’t care for him. There is a lot of that sort of nonsense in there.’ She took another sip of tea. ‘But on certain rituals, Alphonse was quite learned. Anyway, it should make for some interesting reading, though the various translations can be inexact.’
Celia seemed quite familiar with the tome. I opened it at the copyright page and noted that Barrett’s edition had been published in 1896, a few years before his death. ‘This translation is by a G. Redway.’ I put the book in my lap and crossed my arms. ‘I’ve been wondering about something. If Barrett’s laboratory is so hidden, who discovered his body? How did they know he’d even died?’