Shadows Over London: A Shadow Council Archives Novella by James Palmer

Author:James Palmer [Palmer, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Falstaff Books
Published: 2018-08-08T22:00:00+00:00

Father Dagon

The four of them crammed into the police carriage en route to the Cauldron, Herbert fidgeting, crossing one leg over the other, then switching, all the while making perturbed noises.

This rankled Professor Challenger to no end, but to his credit he held his peace, and before long they were moving through the grimy streets of the East End, dirty street toughs glaring bleary-eyed at them as they rolled past.

The carriage trundled through the labyrinthine streets until at last coming to a stop before the still smoking skeleton of the church Burton, Challenger and Abberline had barely escaped with their lives hours earlier. They hopped from the carriage to join a group of police officers who were busy gathering whatever paltry evidence to be found and scaring away looters.

“By Jove,” said the Time Traveler while Abberline had a word with the ranking officer. “Did you gentlemen do this?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Burton. “Not that we’re proud of it.”

“Speak for yourself,” declared Challenger, leaning over to yank a wet, filthy cultist robe from under a singed wooden beam, only to toss it away a moment later in disgust.

Herbert studied the damage in silence. They had filled him in on what happened on the way over, but he still looked unable to come to grips with it. Or maybe he just worried about the fate of his Time Machine. Burton couldn’t tell which.

Abberline turned to them when he was done conversing with the leading duty officer. “Only one body found. That bloke you shot, Professor Challenger. Burned to a crisp, of course. No way to identify him. It seems everyone else got out.”

“What about the tunnel?” asked Burton.

“Some men followed it back to the old house,” said Abberline. “No one there but some street urchins what bolted as soon as they saw the coppers come through that hidey-hole. No signs of any regular occupants, and no trace of this King in Yellow.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Burton said irritably.

“He’s still around somewhere,” said Challenger, his dark eyes scanning the surrounding buildings. “Probably watching us right now, laughing at us.”

“But where?” asked Abberline. “How?”

“Remember Professor Moriarty’s carriage?” asked Burton. All eyes turned to him.

“Something struck me about it this morning. It was designed for not only security, but comfort. Like Captain Nemo’s Nautilus.”

“Odd’s Bodikins!” declared Challenger. “The blackguard lives in it.”

“Perhaps,” said Burton. “At least some of the time. Maybe our King in Yellow has a similar setup. He’ll want to stay mobile yet remain close to his operations here in the East End.”

“And he no doubt has a small legion of people helping him,” said Abberline. “Keeping him hidden. And we’ll never be able to pry his whereabouts from them.”

The four of them thought on this for a while.

“Ho!” the Time Traveler called from amid the blackened rubble. “What’s this?”

Burton, Challenger and Abberline stepped carefully through the ruins toward their companion.

“What is it?” said Abberline.

Herbert pointed to the blackened shape resting on the ground. Burton still recognized it as the blasphemous carved visage hanging above the tabernacle.

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