Hemlock’s eyes lit up.
“I knew it! I knew you were one of them. I saw what happened at the asylum. You made the shadows move. I felt your power and from that moment on I knew you had to be to be the one. It was the sign I had prayed for.”
“Our Dark Lord answers his faithful servants. Now, keep talking.” He needed Hemlock to be distracted so he could draw in more of the light and be ready to break out the instant he learned where Polly and Gredge were. “Why were you removed from your position at St. Thomas’?”
“Pah! They did not appreciate my talents. I was a great surgeon, I saw some incredible things in theatre; peoples near death experiences, their souls leaving their bodies after death. I began investigating the connections between mind, body and soul. I set up controlled experiments on patients with incurable diseases and I made sufficient progress in proving the existence of the soul as a physical entity. I went to the board with my findings, hoping they would fund more research but instead they got rid of me. They said what I was practicing was against God!”
“It is against their God... but not ours. Our lord Lucifer cherishes your gifts. That is what you intend to offer him isn’t it? The souls of the innocent in exchange for immortality?”
“Yes! Yes! You understand it. Once I am immortal I can prove beyond doubt, the existence of the soul, the existence of higher beings and that the afterlife is real! They don’t see, they call me a freak and a fraud but I will make them see! My research cannot be denied now, I recorded everything.”
“I saw your diagrams and I found your machine. It really is extraordinary.” Midnight played to Hemlock’s ego by flattering him, all the while keeping him distracted enough so he didn’t notice the flames from the candles growing brighter. “Tell me, how do you propose to make this exchange? The captured souls are in the theatre and I am here.”
Hemlock’s face broke into a devious grin and he touched one of the candle scones behind him, tugging it downwards the sound of stone grating on stone echoed around the underground chamber.
“There are many hidden secrets in this great city Mr. Gunn.” He stood aside to show one of the recesses in the wall had opened to reveal a tunnel. “This tunnel runs from the church to the cellar under The Old Vic and out on to the river. No doubt it has been here a few centuries, you know how fond we aristocrats were of our escape tunnels. It turns out Mr. Wong used it for smuggling various contraband in and out of the city. Mary kept records of all her clients but she also monitored the dealings of her employer quite closely too. A very shrewd woman she was, a pity I had to kill her but she knew too much and I don’t take kindly to blackmail.”
“You had no need to kill Mary, I had already made her forget...” Damn! He hadn’t meant to reveal more of his powers to Hemlock but it was too late, his excited expression said it all.
“My, you are powerful indeed. I have no doubt that this exchange will proceed better than I had planned.”
“Did you take her soul too?”
“Alas no, Mary was no more innocent than you or I. She was of no use to me aside from introducing me to the lovely Miss Rowbotham and being very good at keeping records.”
“About her, why did you kill her and not the others?”
“I hadn’t meant to kill poor Emeline, that was an accident. I only meant to scare her enough to draw out her soul.”
“But then why murder Sally and Billy in my home? You already had their souls, you had no reason to kill them.”
“Those people were destitute, they had nothing, no life, no prospects and no hope. What I did was an act of mercy! I hadn’t the courage to kill them at first but then I saw them, hollow and devoid of life. I realised I had to be brave and finish what I had started. I was made to become something more than a weak human; I knew that the moment I began seeing souls in my photographs. I hold the essence of people’s lives in the palm of my hand, I can decide if someone lives or dies, I can punish or reward. When I’m immortal nobody can touch me and they will have to listen. I can clean up the city, the whole country, rid us of disease and poverty. I can harvest the souls of the dead in exchange for powers to do this. God will not help me, he has abandoned his people. Solomon used the demon Ornias to build his temple and so shall I!” Hemlock beamed at him. Clearly, he had chosen Midnight as his Ornias.
“What about the child? What will you do with her?”
“That child is as pure as the driven snow. My little nightingale, she will sing for me. She is my zenith. When I saw her selling matches in the freezing cold and saw her mutilated hand I knew she would be a great gift to my lord Lucifer indeed. A child’s soul is special but hers, oh! If you could only see it; a rainbow of colour! But then you must know how special she is, it is why you claimed her for yourself isn’t it? She put up a fight though, her soul would not come to me. I tried to force it out and I almost had it but she blocked me and then I was disturbed so I had to make it look like I had found her. I tried to recapture her at the hospital but found she had been moved. I still have contacts at the hospital, it didn’t take long to find her at the Asylum and then you turned up and put on a show for us all! That is when I knew little Polly had brought you to me. She is my angel of death and her soul will be the sweetest of all to savour.”
Midnight’s eye’s flashed and a candle flickered, he forced control of his fury. He must not alert Hemlock just yet.
“You said you would not hurt her if I helped you!”
“And I won’t if you keep your end of the bargain, I will keep mine. You will give me what I need and then I will release them. But time and tide wait for no one Mr. Gunn so if you fail in this exchange, if you kill me you will never find them in time.”
Quite suddenly everything made sense to Midnight; with the utterance of those words ‘time and tide wait for no one’ the pieces fell into place and he was sure he knew where Polly and Arthur were being held. Hemlock had told him the tunnel ran from the church to the theatre and on to the river. They must be being held somewhere near the exit of that tunnel, or even on the river itself, on a boat perhaps? It would have to be within direct reach of that tunnel for Hemlock to reach them in time to either set them free or kill them.
“Shall we get on with it then? I presume you have everything you need for the ceremony?”
Hemlock looked a little taken aback and unsure but quickly masked it, turning away he reached into the tunnel and pulled out a black velvet bag. He took out a black candle, a brass bowl, an old book which Midnight presumed was a grimoire.
“Where are the souls? I will not exchange power without them.”
“We will go to them soon; first I need to bind you to me so you cannot escape. Forgive me but demons are not the most trustworthy of beings.”
“How do you know, have you had many dealings with demons?”
“Just the one and he is a tricky little fellow. I have him under control now, he is bound to me also. I learned my lesson the first time I tried to capture him.”
“So why didn’t you just use him for the exchange?” Midnight was ready. He held more light power inside him than he ever had before. It threatened to burst from him at any second but now Hemlock had mentioned capturing a demon he needed to know what he might be up against in a fight.
“He is a lesser demon, not nearly powerful enough to grant my wish but he has proved useful indeed for capturing the souls.”
“Impossible! A mere human and a lesser demon could not perform such a fete. Prove it!”
Hemlock seemed hesitant, even a little impatient but he could not resist showing off his genius so he reached into the velvet bag again and pulled out a pair of steel tipped gloves and a pair of eye goggles, not unlike driving goggles but these had red lenses and wires attached. He put on the goggles and the gloves and opened his arms wide then took a mocking bow.
“I give you the infamous Spring-Heeled Jack, minus the cape of course and its deep pockets that hide the jars.”
“That’s it?” Midnight scoffed, soundin
g wholly unimpressed. “Where’s the demon?”
Hemlock sighed not bothering to mask the irritation he replied.
“In here!” He tapped the goggles. “It really is quite ingenious Mr. Gunn, you see after I bound him to me with his blood, I mixed it with powdered ruby and performed the spell he gave me. That enabled me to coat the lenses with that magical mixture. I released the demon back into his world but as he is still bound to me by blood and magic, I can call on him whenever I choose. It is his spirit that haunts these glasses. Once I have brought my victims to state of immeasurable fear, the demon calls forth their souls and I snatch them using these!” Hemlock raised his gloved hands and wiggled the metallic claws. “As I’m sure you know, silver enhances one’s connection to all things spiritual. The souls are put in special containers and inserted into my machine where they’re ready for the transference of power to me.”
“A clever explanation but I see no demon. Bring him forth.”
“I do not have time for this Mr. Gunn,” Hemlock snapped. “Neither does your little pet. Now, enough explaining. Be quiet while I prepare the binding spell.” Hemlock turned to a page in his grimoire, lit the black candle and began to chant. The air grew thick and heavy. Midnight was a little concerned; demon or not a binding spell would work on anyone should that person’s blood be collected and used in the spell. His concerns were confirmed when Hemlock picked up the brass bowl and approached him.
“I need a little of your blood if you please Mr. Gunn”
Midnight bowed mockingly and held out his arm, wrist up.
Hemlock laughed,
“Do you think I am that naïve? If I cross into the trap it will free you and I’m not about to let that happen. I will throw you the bowl and you will bleed for me.”
“I have no knife. What would you have me use?”
“How about your imagination? Tick tock goes the clock Mr. Gunn.” And with that Hemlock tossed him the bowl.
Everything happened at once. As the bowl flew towards him, Midnight gathered up all his light energy and projected it outward, enveloping Hemlock in one huge ball of light. The bowl clattered to the floor, the noise of brass on stone was drowned out by the roar of energy that swirled around his enemy. He knew what he had to do now; Midnight called the light to him and it came, dragging a screaming, flailing Hemlock along with it. As Hemlock crossed beneath the trap, Midnight felt its hold on him break. The candles flickered and the ball of light that held Hemlock disappeared. The pair of them fell to the floor in an entangled heap as the shadows rushed in to their host’s body and Midnight roared in pain. Just as he settled into the acceptance of the dark power he felt a sharp stab in his left side. Putting his hand to it, it came away bloody. He looked at the manically laughing Hemlock beneath him and saw that he held up a small knife. He had been stabbed!
Hemlock jabbed at him again but he swept his arm in front to block it, the blade swiped across his wrist and he felt the warm flow of his life’s blood spurt from the second wound. He let out an animalistic snarl and directed a blast of dark power at his enemy, sending Hemlock careening across the stone floor into the wall where he lay panting. Midnight got to his feet and advanced. He could feel blood pumping from the wounds on his side and wrist but he could not let go of the shadows to embrace the healing light, not until he had dealt with Hemlock. Just as he prepared to send another blow, Hemlock put the bloodied blade to his mouth and licked it. The action caused Midnight to halt his steps, with rising dread he knew what the action meant; Hemlock still intended to bind him. As the beginnings of an incantation reached his ears, he sent the shadows spiralling towards the man still slumped on the floor. One smoky thread heaved Hemlock from the ground and held him in mid-air while another forced its way down his throat cutting the ancient words of magic off in an instant. The goggles that Hemlock still wore began to glow bright red, transforming the wearers face into the demonic visage Midnight had seen in the memories of all the victims. The glow turned fiery-red and Midnight noticed Hemlock began to excrete a greyish mist. The mist slowly rose and took the form of its host; it was Hemlock’s soul! So struck with fear at the prospect of his imminent demise was he that his own device had turned on him and had begun a harvest. As sorely tempted as he was to allow that to happen, Midnight refused to allow another soul to be lost. He would not lower himself to the same level of depravity as this poor excuse of a human and so he fought to control the impulse to kill. Hemlock landed on the floor of the crypt with a heavy thud. He was unconscious but alive... just.
“You arrogant swine! Be thankful I have not sent you to your lord!”
Removing the goggles and gloves, Midnight stamped hard on the goggles crushing them. He threw the gloves to the other side of the room and removed the leather belt from Hemlock’s trousers, turned him onto his front and bound his wrists together behind his back with the belt.
“I may be merciful now but I swear to you, if the girl dies, prison will not protect you from me!”
Giving him a hefty kick in the gut and satisfied that would hold the lifeless villain until he could alert Rowe, he set off down the tunnel. Swapping shadows for light once more; a ball of newly formed flame lit his path. Using what little of the light’s energy he could spare to seal the two wounds, he ran as fast as he could, praying he was not too late.
After five minutes of running he came upon another stone staircase like the one in St. Andrews crypt. Midnight assumed it must lead to the cellar of The Old Vic. He stopped barely a minute and debated whether to try and find his way to Rowe and send for help, but Rowe would probably be on his way to the mission house looking for him. He thought fast and decided he could not afford to waste time explaining things to whichever policemen Rowe had sent to guard the souls; Polly and Arthur were his priority.
Another ten minutes and the tunnel rattled with noise, he could feel the vibrations under his feet, I must be underneath Waterloo station! If that was true he estimated he could not be far from the river.
The tunnel ended abruptly and he found himself blocked by a large wooden door with iron rivets and thick hinges. The door was locked. Only dark energy would be strong enough to break it down so he allowed the ball of flame to peter out, bracing himself for the pain of accepting the shadows once more. The door blasted apart with a resounding BOOM! Splinters of wood and mangled metal flew outwards landing with a splash. Midnight stepped out into the night and found himself on a narrow ledge parallel with the river Thames. Taking in his immediate surroundings, he could see a rusty iron ladder running upwards to the street, to his left the narrow ledge ran along the embankment for a few feet until it met with a large iron mooring, beyond that was the new Westminster Bridge; still undergoing a substantial refurbishment, it was covered in scaffolding, construction materials and shrouded in patchy fog. To his right was nothing but the inky waters and a tide gauge painted on the stone wall. The gauge indicated it was almost high tide.
‘Time and tide wait for no one’, he heard Hemlock’s words in his mind and fear gripped his heart. He could see nothing that might indicate where Polly and Arthur might be. Had he made a mistake? His hands gripped the jagged rungs of the ladder and he began to climb, perhaps something on the street may give him a clue. When he reached street level he found himself directly outside of St. Thomas’ hospital. Polly and Gredge might be inside; it was possible with Hemlock’s links to the place. Just as he headed in that direction something leaped up from the top of the ladder and landed right beside him; Hemlock! Except it did not look like the Hemlock he had met this night. This version had taken on a beast-like quality, his face had contorted into a grizzly snarl, its stance was predatory. Midnight noticed brown claws on the end of its fingers and its eyes shone like hot coals- no goggles or gloves in sight! The Hemlock creature launched itself at him, teeth gnashing at his throat. He barely had time to react but he threw a bolt of shadow right into the creature’s midriff, sending it right over the embankment and into the river. There was no splash so he hurr
ied to the edge and peered over, expecting to see it flailing in the water. Instead, it was clung to the ladder and sprang at him again knocking him to the ground. Midnight fired another bolt of shadows at it but it leaped out of the way and bounded off in the direction of the bridge.
Bathsheba’s backside it’s fast! The creature had already reached the bridge and was climbing down the scaffold by the time midnight had gotten to his feet and had made it to within ten feet of the first set of scaffolds. He barrelled after it. Launching himself over the railing and onto the platform, Midnight began to descend. The fog was rolling in and out in thick patches; one second he could see below him and the next it was pea soup. The blare of a distant foghorn pierced the night and on the tail end of it he heard the high-pitched scream of a child.
“Polly! I’m coming!”
Another scream rent the night air followed by a bellowing shout that sounded an awful lot like Arthur. Midnight jumped the distance from the platform he now stood upon down onto the lowest scaffold opposite him. He was near the waterline now, he could hear the rush of the tide below.
“Gunn! Here!”
He turned towards the shout, it was difficult to tell which direction it had come from.
“Arthur? Where are you?”
“Behind you, I can see you! Hurry!”
He spun round and peered through the fog and scaffold. He was nearing one of the arches under the bridge when he saw a glimpse of a face. Wasting no time, he darted forwards, balancing on a plank that crossed between the two platforms, he came upon Arthur, who was tied to a stone pillar and up to his midriff in river water.
“I’m coming!”
“No! The girl, he’s taken her!”
“Where?”
The Hollows Page 16