CARNACKI: The New Adventures (5 page)

BOOK: CARNACKI: The New Adventures
2.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“I think I can oblige you on that score. Come to di
nner tonight: you’ll find an eager audience, and brandy enough to wash the cold of this crypt out of you.” Carnacki clapped the young man on the shoulder and jerked his head towards the stairs.


Come on, St. Cyprian . . . out we go.”

A Gaslight Horror
P.
V. Ross

 

 

T
he early evening was quite a dark and foggy one as I traversed the busy Charing Cross Road to a certain bookshop with the intent of purchasing a rare set of volumes titled ‘The Makepeace Library of Traction Engineering’ for my young nephew’s birthday.

I had arranged for the
proprietor to reserve these volumes for me in advance, and upon entering the bookshop, which seemed empty of custom, I made my request to the shopkeeper. Nodding in acknowledgement, the shopkeeper hurried away to fetch and prepare my books in the usual brown paper wrap and thin hemp rope.

While
waiting for these books to be prepared, I took in the quiet feel of the shop and began to browse. At the very moment that the steady ticks of an ornamental grandfather clock broke into a chime, there was a tapping on my shoulder.

Startled, I turned around
, only to be greeted by my old friend Carnacki, who informed me (with much amusement) that he had noticed my arrival from a hidden niche that housed the rare antiquities of the shop.

After the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, Carnacki
advised me not to be late for dinner this Thursday and, with a quiet nod of farewell, left the shop and disappeared into the evening fog.

I had not seen Carnacki for a while and looked fo
rward to our customary dinner with the greatest of enthusiasm. Therefore, in my eagerness, I arrived at Cheyne Walk slightly earlier than expected. With good humour, Carnacki announced that I “was the first,” then invited me in and supplied me with a very fine sherry.

Situated by a warming fire, Carnacki and I engaged in small talk as the other guests arrived one by one
, quite ready to dine.

Dinner
, as always, was a splendid affair. Afterwards we retired to our customary positions, well fortified with brandy, and began to smoke. We were all eagerly awaiting Carnacki to regale us with his latest adventure.

“Gentlemen, it seems that I am among other things a marriage counsellor of sorts
,” he began.

“Four weeks ago to this day, I was up quite early with the intention of making necessary modifications to new equipment (which I had ordered from Peaks’ Catalogue of Miscellany) when I was interrupted by a hurried ra
pping on my front door. On opening the door I was greeted by a smartly dressed but haggard young man in a desperate way.

“‘
Mr. Carnacki?’ the young man enquired. I nodded by way of confirmation.

“‘
Please, Mr. Carnacki, you must help me before nightfall.’


Seeing that the young man was extremely distressed, I invited him in and brought him through into the scullery, where a freshly drawn pot of coffee was made available. He sat by the stove, bent over with his head in his hands. I firmly placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. He looked up and received my offer of coffee with trembling hands.

“‘
Young man, collect yourself and tell me what troubles you so,’ I said.

“‘
It seems that my wife, Imogene, and I are haunted,’ he began. ‘My name is Samuel Parkinson and I am a clerk with a small but successful import-export concern situated at St. Anne’s wharf, north of the river. That is where I met my wife, Imogene. We were engaged for two years until we married three weeks ago.

“‘
After our wedding, and forsaking our honeymoon, we moved immediately into a property that I had managed to secure within the grounds of Victoria Park. The property itself is a charming old hunting lodge, recently renovated and located slightly out of the way within the Park itself.

“‘A day after our wedding, I noticed a slight change in Imogene’s mood. She seemed bothered in some way and, after a week, she could not rest during the night and took to sleeping during the day. I asked her what the matter could be that troubled her so. Her reply was small talk, but my constant enquiries soon bought her to tears.

“‘Then three nights ago it began.


The young man nervously began looking around, wringing his hands desperately. I placed my hand on his shoulder and supplied him with some more coffee.

“‘
Listen, lad, unburden yourself of your troubles. Do not be afraid of ridicule. I am here to help if I can.’

“‘
Well, it happened like this. Three evenings ago, I had just joined Imogene in the front parlour. She was drawing the curtains for the evening when she stopped and stared out of the window at some activity by the street lamp outside. I joined her at the window and asked her what she had seen. She said nothing and just continued to stare out towards the street lamp.

“‘
Looking out, I could make out an occasional glimpse in the lamplight of so
m
e swirling gaseous shapes. At first I put it down to some fault with the gas supply within the lamp, but as time went by these shapes began to assume form of a most monstrous type.

“‘
I have never felt such horror in my life before when Imogene said, “Sam, they have come for us.”

“‘
Although weak with fear, something spurred me into action. I ran through the lodge and turned on all the lights and secured all the windows.’

“‘
You have electric lights?’ I enquired.

“‘
Yes, they were thrown in as a bonus during the lodge’s renovations.’

“‘Forgive my interruption;
please go on.’

“‘
Well, these phantoms continually tried to access the lodge during the night, forever swirling around the property, trying all points of entry, only to be repelled each time. But every time they were foiled, their ghastly howls filled the lodge, sending my poor Imogene into a state of near madness. All night we spent huddled together in the parlour waiting for daybreak. That was when our nightly horror ended.’

“‘
How did you come to know of me?’ I asked.

“‘
After the second night of our ordeal I went to see our local priest. Luckily, he knows about your work within the supernatural through Lady Goldsmith, who, I have been told, had a peculiar and horrible disturbance at Thorpe Hall.’

“‘
I see. Is there anything else which you can tell me regarding your plight?’

“‘
Well, sir, it seems that there are two of these apparitions which flank the lodge in opposite directions. The haunting itself starts a short while after the lamp outside has been lit. Other than that there is nothing that I can think of.’


I spent the rest of the morning questioning the young man as to his problem. After that I sent him home to sleep with the promise that I would look in at the lodge before nightfall.


I arrived at the lodge late in the afternoon, equipped with various ‘tools of the trade’ including the electric pentacle upon which I had managed to effect some modifications.


The enthusiastic welcome from the young Mr. Parkinson and his beautiful wife as was one of desperate relief.

“After
I had been shown to my room, young Parkinson gave me a tour of the lodge and of the outside of the property. I especially observed the location of the street lamp, which was no less than three feet from the front gate. It was placed in a grassy patch that overlooked a densely wooded area of the park.

“I
briefly discussed my intended preparations for the night ahead, after which Parkinson went to join his wife. I was left alone with a ladder to study the street lamp.


I found nothing odd about the lamp, apart from the self-igniting gas outlet, that could possibly act as a conduit from the outer realms. Satisfied, I decided to explore the area of ground around the lamp itself.


A few minutes of carefully tilling the clumps of grass around the base of the lamp had passed when I discovered a small, partly buried object. It was a silver locket of the most unusual design.

“Careful not to disturb
the locket’s resting place or to touch the locket itself, I made a rough sketch of it, noting in pencil some of its unique aspects. Then I carefully replaced the clump of earth that concealed it and went back to the lodge to join Mr. and Mrs Parkinson.


After a splendid high tea,whic
h
I thought would admirably fortify us for the night ahead, Parkinson and his wife delightedly decided to show me their wedding photos.


Briefly forgetting their previous ordeals, Parkinson’s wife, Imogene, stated: ‘Mr. Carnacki, you are our first guest since we moved to this lodge, and you are most welcome.’


I thanked Mrs. Parkinson for her hospitality, and we all sat in the parlour admiring the charming photographs of their big day when I spied something quite curious in one of the pictures.

“It was a picture of Imogene with her b
ridesmaid.

“The b
ridesmaid was a tall and gaunt woman, but beautiful none the less, with long, luxuriant black hair draped around her neck. She appeared to be wearing the very same locket of unusual design that I had discovered by the base of the lamp outside the lodge.

“‘
Tell me, if you will, who is this equally beautiful lady that stands with you on your great day?’ I enquired.

“‘
That lady, Mr.Carnacki, is my stepsister, Clara,’ Imogene replied, smiling.

“‘
What does she think of this enchanting lodge that you have both acquired?’

“‘
She has yet to see the place,’ cut in Parkinson. ‘After the wedding, Imogene’s stepsister sadly had to depart to Brighton for an important spiritualist meeting, as she is a medium. In fact, if I had not managed to secure your help with regard to our unusual problem, we both considered sending a telegram to Clara for her assistance.’

“‘
And have you since contacted Clara regarding your problem?’


Parkinson and his wife exchanged looks of confusion before stating that they had not.


I then asked Parkinson for his magnifying glass, which I had spied lying on some papers on his bureau, and went to the window of the parlour, where I compared my sketch of the find outside by the lamp with that of the locket in the photograph. They were of the same design.


The daylight was fading into dusk, and I sat down again with both Parkinson and his wife.

“‘
We do not have much time, as the night is near and the lamp will be lit. Therefore, Mrs. Parkinson, as we discussed regarding my preparations, you do not have to endure another night of this haunting. I will supply you with a very efficacious sleeping draught, and you will be safe within my electric pentacle until morning, when I hope all will be well.’


Mrs. Parkinson was about to protest, as I feel she wished to be with her husband during the oncoming ordeal, but I was adamant.

“‘
I insist, Mrs. Parkinson. You must follow, as will your husband, my instructions to the letter. Prior to this I will ask you some questions about both of you which you may find personal and not pertinent; but I implore you to trust me on this matter, as there is perhaps danger to life and soul.’

“T
hey willingly complied with my request; and after a brief discussion with both of them, Mrs. Parkinson was given the sleeping draught. It took immediate effect, leaving both Parkinson and myself free to make further preparations before nightfall.


All the windows and doors within the lodge were locked and smeared with Wincelesus herb. After all the lights were turned on, both Parkinson and I retired to the parlour and took up vigil by the window. Parkinson would occasionally look in on his wife, sleeping soundly in bed surrounded by my electric pentacle.


As I stared out into the dusk from the parlour window, the lamp suddenly flared into life.

“‘
Parkinson, come quick, the lamp is alight!’


Parkinson raced downstairs into the parlour and stared out with me through the window.

“‘
Nothing yet,’ I reported.


Parkinson then went and prepared two brandies from his liquor cabinet. ‘There will be, I can assure you.’


Both staring out at the lamp, fortified by a false bravado which the brandy had kindly encouraged, we exchanged some small talk. And then it began.

“‘
Look, Mr.Carnacki! Can you not see it?’


Sure enough, there was a peculiar misty activity coming from the lamp.

“‘
See? I told you, it is happening again.’


Parkinson seemed almost jubilant with vindication as his past account regarding his supernatural ordeal was to be confirmed.

“‘
I stood by the window unable to move, frozen by my own funk. I watched as these ghastly horrors took on their terrible shape.

BOOK: CARNACKI: The New Adventures
2.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

An Open Heart by Harry Kraus
Lost Boy by Tim Green
Six Four by Hideo Yokoyama
Love Jones For Him by Loveless, Mia
Carry the Light by Delia Parr
The Supernaturalist by Eoin Colfer
Knight's Valor by Ronald Coleborn