The Darker Arts

by Oscar de Muriel

  ‘But I’m the only one who can!’ Eddie screeched. He sank his teeth in my forearm, and I could not help dropping him onto the floor. Eddie glared at me with a wrath unimaginable in a creature his age and pointed at me with a trembling hand. ‘Take me away and I’ll tell grandma it was you who snatched me!’

  His words hung in the air for an instant, until McGray cackled. ‘Aye! Let’s do that instead!’

  ‘Why, you little—!’

  I do not know how I managed to compose myself, for I was ready to bend Eddie over my knee and give him a good smack. When my homicidal urges had subsided a little, I squatted down next to the boy. He recoiled like a cornered kitten, but I seized his wrist again.

  ‘Edward,’ I said, as tenderly as possible, ‘I know what you feel right now.’ He struggled but I held firmly. ‘I lost my mother when I was even younger than you are now. I must have been your brother’s age. I …’

  I felt a painful gulp forming in my throat. These were things I had never said out loud.

  ‘I hid under the tables. I kicked and thrashed and hated everyone for not letting me see her. I felt that burning yearn as well ; the need to see her. The need to see those who have left us. And she is not the only one I have lost along the years.’ I gulped, took another deep breath and then pointed at my chest. ‘You feel it right here, do you not? As if something is truly tearing you inside?’

  Eddie’s tears rolled fast and copious, and he nodded. I squeezed his very thin shoulder.

  ‘It is cruel. Unfair. I know. It is the most devastating feeling, but it is precisely that despair that fuels all this spiritualist nonsense. Some people will see your pain and will try to take advantage of it.’ I looked at McGray with the corner of my eye as I said so, thinking of his sister. ‘Sometimes I even wish it were all true. That would mean I could really see them again.’

  For a moment nobody spoke. Poor Eddie sobbed on, wiping tears with his sleeves. I offered him a handkerchief and he blew his nose mightily. Then I helped him to his feet. Despite being drenched in tears, he seemed a little more composed. However, when I tried to pull him to the door, he again resisted.

  He looked at me and sniffed. ‘I still want to do it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have to try.’

  ‘Oh, you cannot be serious. Did you not—?’

  ‘Ye heard the laddie,’ said McGray, taking the boy back to the chair. ‘I’m nae forcing anyone.’

  I shook my head, glaring at him. ‘You know perfectly well what you are doing. You always do. And you never give a damn who you drag to hell with you.’

  McGray looked up, his chest swelling. ‘I ken ye miss yer uncle, but if there ever was one person I didnae wish any harm—’

  ‘Oh, sod off! Do as you wish. Traumatise this child. Get yourself imprisoned. Dig a tunnel out of Calton Jail with a spoon! But I will not take part in this anymore.’

  ‘In fact,’ said McGray, ‘ye sort of have to. I need seven people at the table.’

  I must have let out the most mocking cackle of my life, but as I did so, I looked at the dour faces around me.

  Joan began to wriggle her shawl, and George rested a hand on her shoulder. I knew them far too well ; they were entirely loyal to McGray and would help him no matter what.

  ‘Stay with us, sir,’ said Joan. ‘Please. What if the spirits arrive and we’re all alone with two boys?’

  ‘Oh, Joan, this is absurd!’ I looked at them all, everyone as determined as the next. I turned to McGray. ‘Even if I agree, you have two boys, two elderly servants’ – Joan tried to protest – ‘and you and I. Who is the seventh?’

  ‘Reed’s on his way,’ said McGray, ‘although he thinks I want him to collect some evidence … Which is nae really a lie, if ye think about it.’

  Whilst I pondered, we heard the sound of hooves crossing the garden.

  ‘It’s him,’ said Larry, peeping through the window.

  ‘Reed will not agree to this,’ I said.

  ‘Och, I hope he does. I’d hate to bring up his body-snatching days again.’

  ‘Body snatching?’ Joan repeated, the gossipmonger at the ready.

  Reed appeared at the threshold a moment later. He halted mid-step, staring at the candles and the table, and McGray pulling crystals and a bottle of whisky from a sack. The doctor’s face was initially paralysed, his features only a little less childish than Eddie’s. He barely managed to draw in some air.

  ‘Oh no … Oh, no-no-no-no! I’m not even—’

  He did not finish the sentence, but sprinted backwards and we heard him run down the stairs.

  ‘Och,’ McGray grunted impatiently, going after him with huge strides, ‘if youse excuse me …’

  I was going to take the chance to sneak away, but George came to me and again grasped my arm pleadingly.

  ‘Sir, ye ken my master. He won’t let the boy go until he’s through with this.’

  ‘I know you are doing this for him, but—’

  ‘Please, sir! And then ye can take the laddie right away. It won’t take an hour.’

  Joan came closer, also giving me a supplicant look, and the boys were on the edge of their seats. In the distance I heard Reed’s squeals, surely as McGray dragged him back.

  I sighed, begrudgingly walking to the table. ‘Oh, dear Lord. Let’s make haste. Mrs Cobbold must have gone to the police already.’

  McGray brought Reed then, pulling him by the back of the collar as if the young chap were a fidgety cocker spaniel. He screeched when he saw me.‘Inspector Frey! Don’t tell me you agree with all this!’

  I interlaced my fingers, all my will gone. ‘I never do. As usual, I was also dragged into it.’

  Larry, grinning rather cruelly, pulled a chair for the doctor.

  ‘Come on, sir. It’s a lovely night to talk to the dead.’

  39

  We all took our seats and McGray passed a round of drinks for the grown-ups. Reed pushed his glass away, looking deathly pale.

  ‘Wet yer whistle, laddie,’ McGray told him. ‘It’ll calm you down.’

  ‘I’d rather not,’ Reed grumbled, but McGray pushed the glass back to him.

  ‘Don’t tell me yer afraid Grannie Alice might come ’n’ kill everyone in the room like she did before.’

  Reed’s eyes opened wider. ‘I … I had not thought of that. Thank you for planting the notion in my head!’ He then downed the whisky in one go. McGray was going to pour him another measure, but Reed snatched the bottle and took three anxious gulps directly from it.

  I preferred to savour mine, enjoying the fire in my throat as I scrutinised the six faces around me. How similar it must have felt to be in this very room a month ago. I tried to imagine the scene, placing the faces of the six on the seats we now occupied.

  Eddie, next to me, sat facing the window, on the chair Katerina would have taken. I felt a pang of sorrow as I looked at his rounded cheeks, his skin still as smooth as a baby’s. Such an innocent, tender mind. Death should not be of his concern. Not so soon.

  ‘Do not be too upset if nothing happens,’ I whispered at his ear.

  McGray, who also sat next to Eddie, passed around five silky stones, brown and ochre, hastily tied to strings.

  ‘Tiger eyes,’ he explained. ‘Katerina said we should all wear them around our necks. They’ll protect us and anchor us to the world o’ the living, in case the spirits … well, youse ken, get unfriendly.’

  Reed had another swig, longer this time.

  I picked mine up, wrinkling my nose. ‘Do I have to?’

  McGray made a fist. ‘I’ll crush yer nethers if ye don’t.’

  ‘No protection for the boys?’ asked Joan.

  ‘Nae, they’re pure souls. The dead won’t mess with them.’

  George coughed. ‘Larry? Pure?’ And Joan playfully slapped his hand.

  I sighed in resignation as I tied my own amulet, feeling the weight of the stone against my chest. It did feel like an anchor, somehow.

  McGray
produced a sheet of paper from his breast pocket, unfolded it and placed it before Eddie.

  ‘Read this, laddie. And then just let things unwind. Yer in charge now. The rest of us just have to hold hands …’ he glared at me, ‘and keep from being a soddin’ nuisance.’

  I inhaled deeply (most of us did) as I took Joan’s cold hand. She began praying under her breath, her eyes shut tightly, and McGray did not stop her. In the cold darkness, we all seemed to find her litany somewhat soothing.

  Eddie leaned closer to the sheet, the candlelight casting sharp shadows on his rounded features. As he read, his eyes looked like the empty sockets of a china doll.

  ‘We mean no harm to you.’

  His voice was shaky, and I felt his little hand trembling in mine.

  ‘We seek only wisdom.’

  Joan prayed a little faster, the words melding together until I hardly understood them.

  Eddie took a deep breath, leaning on the last line and reading it in a whisper.

  ‘Commune with us. We seek justice.’

  I must have imagined it, I know, but as soon as he uttered those words the entire room felt even colder, as if struck by a wave of icy air that came from nowhere in particular.

  I tried to shut my eyes like the others, but as soon as I did so, I felt an inexplicable, irrational fear build up inside me. It was like an invisible hand, icy and bony, creeping up my spine. And thus we waited, in complete silence. There were a few cracks and bumps, those which always come at night after one has put all the lights off.

  I was telling myself so, but then I thought I heard whispers.

  They were not Joan’s. These sounded completely different – in the distance, but at the same time as if spoken right into my ears. They were throaty, whistling voices, uttering indistinct words.

  Suddenly Eddie stirred, and I was glad everyone else had their eyes shut, for I jumped in my seat.

  ‘Offering …’ he hissed, his words making my heart beat faster. The boy frowned. ‘Want … Offering?’

  McGray knew at once.

  He produced a small scalpel, which I recognised as an instrument from the morgue. I wanted to ask if Katerina had ‘blessed’ that blade too, but before I could speak McGray had already pricked his thumb and was squeezing drops of his own blood onto the nearest flame.

  The candle scintillated, the blood singed in the fire and the vapours ascended in reeling shapes. My heart raced and my eyes flickered from swirl to swirl, expecting to see a twisted hand materialise in the air, ready to take hold of us.

  And that cold – that ghastly cold – clutched around my neck.

  I felt queasy. The candles went blurry and everything around them seemed to fade into the blackness, like when you stare at something so hard it becomes diffuse. To my eyes the flames turned into floating balls of light, dancing in the air – like torches above tranquil waters.

  I felt a sting of fear in my chest and pinpricks in my fingertips, just like I had that night in the Highlands. The fear returned to me, not like in my nightmares, but fresh and renewed. I could almost smell the woodlands and the burning bodies. I was there again. The only reminders of where I truly sat were the weight of the stone on my chest and my hands being clasped by Eddie and Joan.

  I thought I saw something taking shape amidst the flames, their glares moving and solidifying into something that soon looked like a familiar brow.

  And eyes.

  I shook my head, forcing myself back to reality. It is only you, Ian, I told myself.

  Of course this would affect me ; the darkness of my own bedroom did. And yet here I was, in the same room where those people had died inexplicably, playing the exact same game.

  Then, for an instant, a face flashed before me. His face. It was like one of my previous visions, only far sharper and clearer. It was like staring right into Uncle Maurice’s face, far closer than I’d ever done in life, his skin grey and silvery, his pupils glowing from within. I threw my head backwards and shut my eyes, my heart pounding.

  Go, I thought, a drop of cold sweat rolling down my temple. I don’t want to see you like this.

  I forced in deep breaths, just as a tremor began to take hold of my body. And the words escaped from my mouth. ‘Go and rest …’

  ‘It’s thin,’ someone said at the exact same time.

  It was a throaty, unrecognisable voice. I thought it had come from my own head, but then Reed let out a gasp.

  Eddie had said it, and at once I heard the dogs whimper.

  I opened my eyes again, back to the here and now, and saw McGray leaning slightly towards the boy.

  ‘Thank them for coming,’ he said, but Eddie only nodded.

  ‘It’s thin,’ he said again, never opening his eyes and only barely moving his lips.

  ‘What is thin?’ McGray asked. I could see the spark of the candles reflected in his eyes, every muscle on his face rigid.

  ‘It’s thin like paper,’ Eddie answered.

  There was a flicker in the light, most likely caused by Reed’s breath, but it made Joan startle. The dogs began to howl then, like wolves crying to the moon.

  McGray bit his lips, impatience bubbling under.

  ‘What is thin like paper?’ he asked again, only just managing a gentle tone.

  Eddie balanced his head from side to side. The movement did not seem natural ; it was more like looking at a ghastly puppet being dragged by invisible strings.

  ‘The wall,’ he muttered.

  Then he tilted his head at an odd angle, and again the light made him look like a carved doll whose eyes had been ripped out.

  ‘The wall to the underworld.’

  It was as if that sentence spread a deathly chill that made us all shiver. Joan let out a soft whimper, and then resumed her prayers, faster and faster as she went on. The dogs began trotting around us, letting out erratic howls and barks.

  ‘It’s paper-thin,’ Eddie said again, and then his hissing tone mellowed. ‘Cross.’

  A nasty tingle ran along my spine ; I heard Reed whimper and Larry breathe agitatedly. I imagined an invisible, intangible mass swelling in the room and enveloping us all. As cold as death. The only one who appeared composed enough was old George.

  Eddie began panting, and I thought I could see condensation coming out of his mouth.

  ‘Be not afraid,’ he said, and then a wicked smile appeared on his face. ‘Cross.’

  He began trembling. Slowly at first, but soon I felt the tremors spreading along my own arm.

  ‘Cross!’ he insisted, his head and limbs jerking more and more.

  ‘Is he all right?’ I asked. The whites of his eyes glimmered between half-shut lids.

  As if to silence me, Eddie squeezed my hand with unexpected strength, digging his nails into my skin, and then his face contorted as if stricken by searing pain. His voice, impervious, did not match the grimace.

  ‘Cross!’ he hissed, his spine bending forwards as if something tried to burst from his chest. I thought I heard his ribs crack, just as Eddie forced in a throttling breath.

  ‘McGray, we have to stop!’ But my voice seemed to worsen it all, sending the boy into an uncontrollable fit. His head began flailing about so violently I thought his neck would rip out. The dogs barked madly.

  ‘Break the circle!’ McGray said at once, and we all did so.

  Eddie would not let go of my hand, his tiny nails digging into my skin.

  ‘Blow out the candles!’ McGray shouted.

  Joan jumped up, but almost instantly fell back on her chair as if her legs no longer worked.

  Eddie banged his own head against the table, leaving a red stain on the cloth, and McGray and I instantly lifted him and took him away. The boy thrashed and kicked as he’d done before, screaming with a booming voice.

  As we tried to restrain him, I caught a glimpse of George and Reed blowing and snuffing the candles with their bare fingers. Some fell on the table and there was a brief fire, which Larry attempted to smother with his flap cap. />
  I thought I saw the smoke ascend and swell to form clutching fingers, but then George extinguished the last flame, and the entire world became dark and quiet.

  40

  The white, milky glow of the clouds was far too intense, almost blinding, and I had to blink hard as I faced the sky. Nevertheless, I gazed on. That slight discomfort was far better than the damning stares the superintendent had been casting at me.

  He was leafing through my statement, drumming his long fingers on the desk.

  ‘And the boy simply decided to run to Inspector McGray’s house?’

  ‘Yes, sir. The child said so himself.’

  I could not avoid him any longer. My eyes went from the window to him, and his expression was everything I expected and more – Trevelyan’s lips were so tight they’d effectively disappeared, and his auburn eyes quivered with wrath. He believed nothing in our report, and I had become far too cynical to pretend I cared. I simply endured his glares and said nothing.

  ‘You look rather haggard, inspector,’ he said after a moment of scrutiny.

  ‘You do not expect me to look fresh after last night’s ordeal,’ I said. ‘As Inspector McGray detailed in his own statement, we spent the best part of the night following the track of the boy’s kidnapper. That, of course, after running to Doctor Reed’s home to ensure the boy received proper treatment for that bump to his head. That is why McGray sends his apologies.’

  In reality I had persuaded him to stay away. He did not handle figures of authority terribly well.

  ‘I see,’ said Trevelyan. ‘How commendable. Shall I start proceedings to get medals for the two of you?’

  ‘Oh, no, sir. That would be pushing a little too far.’

  Trevelyan did not even blink. ‘You don’t say.’

  He closed the file abruptly, perhaps pretending it was my face he was slapping.

  ‘I am a reasonable man, inspector, but I will not tolerate a farce like this again. Do you understand me?’