by Nick Moseley
‘See there?’ Keane pointed up into the gloom. Where the pillars joined the ceiling, strips of metal emerged from the stone and disappeared into the brickwork. ‘That’s where the conduits bring the energy into the system. You’ll see it start to form a circuit between the pillars. At a low level you’ll be able to pass through it to get out, but once it’s built up a bit, it’ll kill you.’
Jones stopped them next to a complex piece of machinery that stood a short distance from the Engine. It was a jumble of cogwheels, pistons, levers and gauges and built out of brass. The metal was layered with dust and streaks of verdigris. A large toolbox sat on the floor and there were signs that someone had attempted to get the device working.
‘This is the fail-safe,’ said Jones. ‘It’s basically seized up and there’s no way of fixing it with the tools available. We can jam it closed, though.’ He picked up a crowbar and carefully inserted it into the depths of the machine. ‘Once there’s a good current of energy in the Engine, a heave on the end of this will shut off the safety mechanism and prevent any of it feeding back into the conduits.’
‘I can’t do that and be inside the Engine,’ said Trev. ‘Someone else’ll have to be your designated crowbar-puller.’
Jones and Keane said nothing.
‘Fine, I’ll do it,’ said Desai. ‘You’re going to kill us all anyway, right?’
Keane flinched as if shocked, but Jones looked away. That answers that, Trev thought.
‘If we survive this, I’ll give you the opportunity to let us go,’ Montano said. ‘It’d be a mitigating factor for you with the Custodians.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ said Jones, with heavy sarcasm.
‘How will I know when to pull the lever?’ Desai asked.
‘When the circuit becomes self-sustaining, you’ll see the circulation rate accelerate sharply,’ said Keane. He received nothing but blank stares in response. ‘OK, how about this: when the black stuff starts to spin really fast, that’s your moment.’
‘Got it.’
‘Corbyn’ll probably notice something’s wrong at that point,’ Jones said, ‘so you need to get over there as quick as you can.’ He pointed to a second machine on the opposite side of the engine. It was similar in design, albeit larger. He walked them over to it. As they passed the Engine Trev saw that the interior had been swept clear of dust and the inlays cleaned.
‘This is the device that controls the dispersal of energy into the conduits under the lawns,’ Jones said. ‘It still works, more or less. Just pull the three levers all the way down and that’s it. Energy will be drawn in but can’t escape. After a while…’ He opened one hand in a boom gesture.
‘Should I make a break for it when the second machine’s been activated?’ said Trev.
‘If you want any chance of surviving, yes,’ Jones replied. ‘You’re not going to have much of a window.’
‘Can I have my vapour weapons back?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Are you at least going to uncuff us?’ asked Desai. ‘It’ll make pulling those levers easier.’
‘I’m sure you’ll manage,’ said Jones.
‘Corbyn’s going to smell a rat if I’m standing there with my hands cuffed,’ Trev argued. ‘It looks enough like a trap already, don’t you think?’
‘Yeah, OK,’ the scientist said. ‘But just you.’ He dug a pair of wire-cutters out of his pocket and snipped through Trev’s restraints. ‘Right, shall we?’
‘Good luck.’ Desai gave Trev’s shoulder a squeeze and went to stand next to the first machine.
‘Thank you for doing this,’ Montano said.
‘You’re welcome. I think.’ Trev offered a weak smile and watched as the two scientists led her back to the relative safety of the other room. He massaged some feeling back into his wrists and walked into the centre of the Anathema Engine.
The light from the lanterns was aimed inwards, leaving him spotlighted and exposed. The area outside the Engine disappeared into shadow; he could barely see Desai as she ducked down behind the safety device. Despite her presence, and the others waiting in the room next door, he felt just as alone and helpless as he had in the chapel.
He stood for a few moments, wondering how to draw Corbyn’s attention. He cleared his throat.
‘Um. Hello?’
Nothing happened. Perhaps unsurprisingly.
Trev wandered around the inside of the Engine, peering up at the conduits. It was too dark to see if any energy was seeping down. He shivered. It was very cold.
‘Corbyn? You there?’
Still nothing. Sod’s law, Trev thought. When I don’t want to see the bastard, he’s all over me like a cheap suit, but when I do he’s suddenly afflicted with crippling shyness. Arsehole.
He continued to pace, as much to keep warm as anything else. He consoled himself with the thought that, unlike the last time he’d been inside a Funkelay Cage, he wasn’t sharing the space with a large, homicidal demon. Although on that occasion he hadn’t been unarmed, he’d had some psychic energy of his own to draw on, and his allies had been close at hand to offer support and advice.
In that light, it hadn’t been all bad.
‘Great, now I’m reminiscing about the time I was almost killed by a demon,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve really hit the bottom of the barrel.’
‘Call him again,’ came Desai’s voice out of the darkness. ‘Try to piss him off.’
‘I can’t see any flaws in that plan,’ Trev replied. He raised his voice. ‘Oi! Corbyn! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU WEASELLY LITTLE VAMPIRE SCROTE?’
‘That might do it,’ said Desai.
Trev glared up at the ceiling, expecting to see an enraged Corbyn swooping down on him with arms outstretched, ready to administer the killing touch.
Nothing.
Trev began to feel rather pissed off. If it had been annoying to be expected to nobly sacrifice himself, it was even more annoying to be left hanging. It was like the three hundred Spartans turning up at Thermopylae only to find the place deserted and a note from Xerxes saying “It’s a nice day, so I took the lads to the pub instead”.
‘Maybe he’s already left,’ Trev muttered. If that was the reason for Corbyn’s no-show, then Trev’s indignation at being ignored was the very least of his problems. It didn’t need much imagination to picture the shadows stalking through the streets of Clun, claiming victim after victim, each and every one a new recruit to Corbyn’s army. How long would it take for the shadows to over-run Shropshire? The Midlands? England?
The whole of Britain?
A matter of days, Trev guessed. He swore under his breath.
‘Look,’ Desai whispered.
Trev looked up. A thin wisp of darkness was crawling down one of the pillars. It reached the base and was drawn to the next pillar along, then the next. Soon it had completed a full circuit of the Engine, a ribbon of black energy flowing between the pillars.
‘Oh shit, here we go,’ Trev said. He put his hands over the empty holsters at his waist in a futile attempt to hide the fact that he was unarmed. Energy was drifting down two more of the pillars now and the band of darkness circling the Engine was becoming thicker. Trev stared at it; already it was at ankle height and rising. He tried to work out how long he’d have before he was trapped, and even his most generous estimate was less than reassuring.
He was so distracted by those thoughts that he was completely unprepared to hear a voice behind him.
‘Let’s see, “weaselly little vampire scrote”, was it?’ said Corbyn.
Forty-Four
Trev whirled around. In the space between two of the pillars, a humanoid figure was forming. The darkness streamed into it on one side but streamed back out of it on the other. The figure shifted in size and definition as Corbyn worked to get control of the energy, which was being continually drawn into the circuit around the Engine.
‘I think “haematophage” is the politically-correct term these days,’ Corbyn said. The glowing green ey
es flickered in the figure’s blank face.
‘I notice you’re not arguing with the “weaselly scrote” part,’ Trev said.
He’s here, now what? he thought. Just stand here and hope he doesn’t kill me before the energy’s built up enough for Mishti to do her thing, I suppose. Great plan.
‘I was getting to that,’ said Corbyn. He’d managed to stabilise his image, balancing the amount of energy flowing in and out.
‘Oh right.’
‘Yeah. Going to kill you for it. But first, I’m curious. What the hell are you doing down here?’
‘Wanted to talk to you,’ Trev improvised, ‘so I needed a place where you couldn’t just pop up and kill me before hearing what I’ve got to say.’
Corbyn took a shuddering step towards him, straining against the pull of the Engine like a mime artist doing the old “walking into the wind” shtick. Trev shuffled away, keeping the gap between them constant.
‘You’re assuming I’m interested in hearing what you’ve got to say,’ Corbyn said. ‘Spoiler alert: I’m not.’
‘We’ve got a deal to offer you,’ Trev said, still improvising. His eyes shifted rapidly between the approaching shadow and the ribbon of energy swirling between the pillars. It was building up, but didn’t seem to be moving any faster. He could hear it now, a faint susurration that made his brain itch.
Corbyn stopped his slow progress and laughed. ‘A deal? You haven’t got anything to negotiate with.’
‘Of course we have,’ Trev said, trying to think of something. ‘And all we ask in return is that you give us safe passage out of Spectre’s Rest. Oh, and tell us who the traitor in the Custodians is.’ He added the last in a low voice, in the hope that Desai wouldn’t overhear.
‘There’s a traitor in the Custodians?’ said Corbyn, holding his hands to his face and whispering in mock horror. ‘Whoever told you that?’
‘Come on, we both know that was the info you were trying to trade when you called me here.’
Corbyn didn’t confirm or deny Trev’s assertion. ‘What are you offering in return?’
‘You can keep the prison,’ Trev said. ‘Custodians don’t need it anyway. It’s all yours. Your place in the country.’
‘You can’t try to sell me something I already own,’ Corbyn shot back.
‘You’ve got it now, but the Custodians’ll be along to take it back off you soon enough,’ Trev said. ‘If you agree to our terms you’ll be left alone.’
‘I don’t want to be left alone,’ said Corbyn. ‘Come one, come all. Anyone who comes here is going to end up as one of my minions, the Custodians included.’ He stepped forwards again. ‘They can’t hurt us. But you did. How did you do that?’
‘Just naturally badass,’ Trev said with a shrug. He was aiming for an attitude of relaxed unconcern, but the fact that his voice quavered on the first syllable of “badass” undermined the intended effect somewhat.
Corbyn laughed. ‘Naturally lucky, I might believe.’
Trev tried to force himself to hold his ground as Corbyn took another halting step towards him. His feet had other ideas, deciding that they were going to be sensible even if the rest of him wasn’t, and edged him backwards. He was in the centre of the Engine now and he could feel as well as hear the build-up of energy swirling into the device. His chest ached. The illumination from outside was beginning to fade as the darkness filled the gaps between the pillars, blocking it out. A single lantern stood inside the Engine, its light fighting a losing battle against the black energy.
‘So do we have a deal?’ Trev asked.
‘What do you think?’ Corbyn replied.
‘I think I’m going to have to kick your arse again,’ Trev said. This second attempt at bravado was no more successful than the first. He didn’t sound like an arse-kicking action hero; he sounded like a tired estate agent with a headache.
‘With what?’ said Corbyn. ‘You’re obviously unarmed.’
‘Cock,’ Trev muttered. He dropped his hands from The Twins’ empty holsters.
‘You must have real faith in your negotiating skills to come down here with no weapons,’ Corbyn said. ‘Or did the rest of them just send you out here as a sacrificial victim?’
Trev didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. He’d tried to stall Corbyn with his “negotiating skills” and failed badly. He’d tried macho posturing, which had failed even more badly. And worst of all, the bad guy knew he was unarmed. Time to run, he thought. Bollocks to waiting for the Engine to warm up.
‘Were you planning to trap me in here? Was that the idea?’ Corbyn said, irritated by Trev’s silence. ‘This thing’s been broken for years. Things must be pretty desperate for you if this is all you’ve got left, am I right?’
‘Desperate is the word,’ said Trev. ‘OK, well, I tried. I’ll be off now. Laters.’
He backed away. The shadow made no attempt to stop or pursue him, which ought to have been an indication that something was up. Trev’s attention was so focused on Corbyn that he didn’t notice the other shadows emerging from the circling energy until he was almost on top of one. He yelped and dodged as it stretched a half-formed arm at him. A quick look was enough to tell him that there was a shadow in every gap between the pillars. He was cornered.
‘You won’t trap me in here, but it looks like I can trap you,’ Corbyn observed.
Trev turned in every direction, looking for a gap, an opening, anything. There wasn’t one. The shadows stuttered into existence all around him, the light from their eyes filling the interior of the Engine with a sickly green glow. Like Corbyn had, they were struggling to extricate themselves from the endless circuit of energy; some were small, some were stretched, some were swollen. All were misshapen, their limbs out of proportion, their heads over- or under-sized. Trev knew, though, that none of that would prevent the shadows from killing him with a touch.
‘Nothing to say, Trev?’ asked Corbyn.
‘Not much,’ was Trev’s terse reply.
The shadows were shambling towards him now, trailing thick streamers of energy. They had formed a circle that was slowly tightening, and Trev was at the centre of it. Distorted arms, twisted hands and crooked fingers reached for him.
‘I was hoping for one last smartarse comment before you die,’ Corbyn continued, his tone conversational. He had remained outside the ring and stood watching. ‘Don’t let me down now, after all we’ve been through together.’
‘Shut up,’ Trev ground out.
He stepped to his left, keeping himself in the middle of the closing circle. All he was doing was buying himself a few more seconds of life at most, and he knew it, but there wasn’t any real alternative. He wasn’t going to give Corbyn the satisfaction of seeing him beg to be spared.
‘Not very witty, but up to your usual standard, I suppose,’ Corbyn said.
Trev stopped shuffling about. The shadows were almost on him. He was bathed in the green light from their eyes and surrounded by their groping hands. He folded his arms. He was terrified, of course, but overlaying the fear was a sensation of grim inevitability. He’d been pushing his luck for a long time, and it had finally pushed back.
The nearest hand was inches from his face when he heard a puzzled sound from Corbyn. The knot of darkness in Trev’s chest twitched and he felt a faint but insistent vibration through the floor of the Engine. In the background the whispering sound of the energy rushing through the circuit surged in volume.
The effect on the shadows was immediate. They were pulled away from Trev as if by an invisible hand, their feet sliding, their hands scrabbling at the floor. Corbyn’s resistance to the unseen force was stronger than his minions’, but even he was sent staggering back. He braced himself, bent double with one hand on the floor.
‘You lucky twat,’ he snarled, trying to haul himself towards Trev.
Trev was too startled to reply. He stood and dumbly watched the shadows fighting the pull of the Engine. All of them bar Corbyn had been dragged as far a
s the ring of pillars before managing to dig their heels in. Their outlines began to stretch and distort still further as they strained against the accelerating flow of energy.
There was a squealing, grinding sound and Trev saw a section of the floor slide into a different position, changing the pattern of the metal inlays. The vibration changed in pitch.
Desai’s jammed the safety closed, Trev thought. That’d be good news, if I had any way of getting out of here.
He turned on the spot, crossing his fingers that one of the shadows might have been swept into the circuit and left an escape route. None had. In fact, a few of them were slowly clawing their way back into the Engine, their eyes fixed on him.
‘Very clever,’ Corbyn spat, ‘but there’s a whole maze of conduits under the front lawn. It’s not going to stop us getting out of here.’
There was another grinding sound as Desai closed off the Engine from the very conduits Corbyn was talking about. Trev watched a second section of floor lock into a new position.
‘No,’ he replied, ‘but I think that might.’
Corbyn erupted with a wordless roar of rage as he realised that he was trapped. His shadow form shuddered and lurched in Trev’s direction. A grotesquely long arm whipped out and Trev had to throw himself backwards to avoid it. It seemed that Corbyn’s anger was giving him the strength to push against the Engine’s mounting power.
‘Kill you!’ Corbyn screeched.
The shadow charged Trev on all fours, moving like some kind of twisted ape. Trev dodged aside, barely getting out of its reach in time. Corbyn came after him again, slewing to the side as he strayed too near the outer edge of the Engine and got caught in its pull.
‘Trev!’ Desai’s voice was faint. ‘Trev! Get out! Get out now!’
‘Can’t!’ Trev shouted back. ‘The shadows are in here! You’d better get clear!’
Corbyn fought off the draw of the rushing energy and homed in on Trev. Running on nothing but panic and adrenaline, Trev feinted one way and then went the other. The shadow lunged at him, snagging the back of his fleece and making him stumble. Trev staggered but managed to keep his footing. He tried to run, aiming to lure Corbyn nearer the outer edge of the Engine and the pull of the circling energy, but the creature grazed the back of his leg with an outstretched hand. The limb immediately went numb and sent Trev sprawling.