Order of Britain: Stone of Madness (5 page)

“I'm sure it does.”

Elizabeth didn't say anything. She was staring at the end of the road. A man was walking towards them, a knife in his hand.

“What're you looking at?” he snarled.

“Not much of anythin',” Elizabeth replied smartly. The man glared at her.

“What'd you say, you slag?” he snarled.

“Fuck off mate. Get yerself home.” 

He lunged at her, but she stepped aside, and kicked him smartly on the side of the knee. He went down hard, and as he struggled to rise, she clouted him on the side of the head with the butt of her gun.

“Is he who we're looking for?” Nathaniel said.

“No,” she said coldly. “He's just another bloody drunk.”

She glanced around, and pointed to a house.

“There.”

“How...?”

“The door's open. No-one is stupid enough to leave a door open round here.”

She headed over, and gingerly pushed the door open with her foot. Light spilled from within, and she stepped inside.

“Mummy?”

She froze as the small voice spoke, and hastily put the gun back in her pocket. A small girl emerged from the back room, her nightdress a filthy shade of stained grey, and her black hair a matted mass. Elizabeth recognised her.

“You're not real...” she whispered.

“Where's my mummy?” the girl asked, her eyes boring up into Elizabeth's. The room faded away, leaving the two of them staring at each other.

“You can't be real,” Elizabeth said again. “I mean... you can't be!”

“Elizabeth...” Callum said. “You need to back away.”

“But she's just a little girl...”

“No, she isn't. Back away, Elizabeth. That's an order.” Nathaniel said.

She looked at him, then back to the child. The girl smiled at her, and then fangs slid from the top and bottom of her mouth. She leapt at Elizabeth, her mouth distending like a snake's. 

Elizabeth ducked to the side as Callum and Nathaniel fired. The force of the bullets drove the creature back, but it leapt up onto the ceiling, its head twisting like an owl's to continue staring at them. It focussed its attentions on Elizabeth, and leapt at her again.

She kicked out, desperately pushing the creature away. Raising her gun, she shot it between the eyes, and it slumped to the floor. The vision of the little girl faded away, leaving something that resembled a fanged toad. Elizabeth turned, and looked at the darkened room the creature had come from.

“Elizabeth, you might not want to...”

“Shut up, Callum.” She walked into the room, and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A woman was slumped on the floor, blood draining from her throat to stain the warped wooden planks of the floor. Nearby, a small figure lay motionless. Silently, Elizabeth crossed to the child, and lifted her up. 

The girl's throat had been cut, blood staining the front of her nightdress. Her black hair was matted and filthy. Elizabeth gently stroked it back from the still forehead, and laid the girl back down. She walked to the door, and headed out into the cool air of the night. Callum followed her.

“Have you got a cigarette?” she asked.

Wordlessly, he took the pack from his inside pocket, and handed it to her; she tapped one out, and lit it from his offered pack of matches.

“What happened in there?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment, then exhaled a mouthful of smoke.

“She looked like me when I was young. I was born in a house like this. My parents were drunks and wastrels. And then they found out they had a child who could do things. Make plates fly across the room, light candles just by looking at them. And then, when I was about four, they left. Just left. I was in bed, and when I woke up, they were gone.”

She smiled bitterly.

“Thankfully the Guild were able to detect me, but... you've seen what it's like in there. Old families, old blood. I was just an interloper, a new face. So they left me to find my own way until someone took pity on me.” She shrugged. “At least it made sure that I had three square meals a day. Thankfully, I have enough natural ability to catch the attention of the higher orders. And so I survived, and I carry on, and then I have to come back to this place and see that...”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, then smiled wanly.

“We should get a cleanup crew down here.”

He nodded, then leaned forward, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Just remember you've got friends now, alright?”

“People will get the wrong impression if you do that," Nathaniel said, exiting the house. 

“What, do you want one too?” Callum grinned.

“Maybe later. I've called in the crew. We should get back to the Guild for now.” He rested a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“You know me.”

“Yes, I do. That's why I'm asking.”

“I'm fine, Nathaniel.”

He smiled at her.

“You know, no matter where you've come from, you're here now – and you're one of the best.”

“If you two don't stop, I'm going to get emotional. Let's get home.” 

When the trio walked into the cellar office, they were surprised to find Clarence sitting behind Callum's desk, his pipe gently filling the room with scented smoke.

“Would any of you three care to explain what the hell is going on out there?”

“Hell is a good word,” Callum said, slumping into a chair. “Has Gordon explained to you what we've found thus far?”

“That negatively charged void energy is escaping randomly into London? No, I'd come to that conclusion myself.”

“Then maybe you should have shared it with us – It might have saved us some time.” Elizabeth snapped.

Clarence held up a hand.

“Peace, Miss Cartwright. Of course Gordon explained it to me. I just fail to see how useful the information is.”

“We've been able to respond to two events this evening.”

Clarence stared at them over arched fingers.

“And there, my friends, is the problem. You're responding. You're not,as yet, ahead of the game.”

“If you can tell me how to predict the future, Clarence, I'm willing to listen,” Nathaniel said. “We didn't have enough information to come to conclusions. What we did have is the skills to kill both a melded flesh golem and a hiver in a single night. If you have any information that can help us, I'd appreciate it.”

“Information, no. Help, yes. I'm putting the reaction agents at your disposal.”

Callum raised an eyebrow.

“I'm sorry, Clarence?”

“I'm putting our people under your disposal. I want you three to focus on finding the root cause of this, so use the standing reaction force to counter any new incursions.”

He looked at the door, and his eyes went distant. A short man with white hair came in, his wrinkled face serious above a short-clipped white beard. 

“This is Milford Kennedy. He's our lead agent on the reaction force, and for now, he's under your command.”

There was a slight narrowing around Kennedys eyes, and then he smiled and nodded at the three.

“Look forward to working with you. Where do we start?”

Clarence raised his bulk from the chair, and smiled.

“I'll leave you to your work. Be sure to keep me informed, Nathaniel.”

“Of course.” 

The leader of the Guild strode out, and Callum gestured to a chair next to the glowing map of London.

“What have they told you, Mr Kennedy?”

“That you three have been putting out fires all night – and that you need someone to help with the load.”

“That's a fairly apt description.” Callum fixed him with a level look. “Are you going to have any problems working with me?”

“No. I heard about your work in India. Damned good job if you ask me.”

Callum nodded his thanks, and settled back into his chair. Nathaniel glanced at Gordon.

“Can you set up communications for the reaction teams?”

The researcher nodded.

“It's a fairly standard spell.”

“Alright then,” Nathaniel said. He looked at Kennedy, who was intently studying the map.

“We're not going to pretend you're under our command. You know how to react to dangerous situations, and Gordon can coordinate you. In the meantime, we'll focus on tracking down the source of all this. Sound good to you?”

“Simple enough.”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

Gordon glanced at the map, and swore.

“We've got three new incursions forming.”

Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

“No rest for the wicked, I suppose. We'll sort this, and catch up with you afterwards.”

“Got it.”

Kennedy strode out, and the three agents stood around the map. Callum added more pins to the rapidly spreading blotches, then strung a line between each one. 

“And there's where we start searching,” he said, pointing at the place where the lines intersected.”

“It can't be that simple.” Gordon protested.

“No, it can't,” Nathaniel replied. “But for now, it's the best we've got.”

***

As he was walking down the corridor to where his men were waiting, Kennedy found himself accosted by the last person in the world he wanted to see. Cameron stepped from the shadows, and smiled pleasantly at him.

Kennedy had seen that smile before. It meant that Cameron wanted something.

“Well?” he snapped.

The smile faded from Cameron's face.

“Firstly, Mr Kennedy, I'd warn you against speaking to me that way – and to remember who holds your leash.” 

Kennedy sighed. Unfortunately, he was a man with debts. Cameron had helped pay those debts, but the help had come at a greater cost than money. Kennedy was a fairly simple man – he responded to magical threats, and commanded others to do the same. But Cameron, he played at politics, and required allegiance.

“Clarence has ordered us to work with the Order. He wants us to respond to these events whilst they try and track down the source.”

“And?”

“That's all. That's my job, Wallace. I respond to threats.”

“And yet you're ignoring the most obvious one.”

Kennedy stared at him for a moment. Cameron smiled slightly, and rested his hand on the agent's shoulder.

“Are you truly willing to work with that half-breed? Really? Knowing how dangerous he is? You've seen wild magic at work, Milford. You know what it is he has access to.”

Kennedy shook his hand off.

“In case you haven't noticed, Mr Cameron, we're in the middle of a situation. I don't have time for your agenda right now.”

He walked off down the corridor towards the hansom cabs. Cameron watched him go, a sly smile creeping across his face.

Slowly, he turned, and headed for the stairs back up to the main floors.

***

The three agents of the Order of Britain headed out soon afterwards, their minds focused on tracking down the heart of the darkness spreading through London. The trio was silent as they drove through the city streets, their thoughts within themselves. Back in India, the three had linked their minds to defeat the demonic regiment of redcoats attacking a remote fort, but now they had closed those doors to each other, each choosing to keep their own counsel.

The crossed lines of the disturbances took them to a an upmarket area of north London, an area of town houses and, more importantly, the money to own them. Eyes watched them suspiciously as the cab went past, marking them as strangers to the area, and therefore something to be feared.

Callum  stepped from the cab, and immediately felt a tingle up the flesh of his right arm. He grinned humourlessly, and nodded to his colleagues.

“It's close. I can feel it in my stone.”

Elizabeth and Nathaniel stared at him for a moment, before he closed his eyes and flinched.

“That didn't sound right, did it?”

It started as a giggle from behind Elizabeth's hand, and as the seconds went on, became a gale of laughter from the pair. Callum blushed slightly as he tried to retain his dignity.

“You know, you could have just let that slide. But no, you have to make an issue of it, don't you?” he complained.

“Don't look at us, you're the one talking about your stones.” Nathaniel laughed.

“Stone, singular,” Callum said flatly.

“You might not want to say that too loudly,” Elizabeth added.

“You can both shut up. It's coming from that direction,” Callum said sulkily.”

“Is that what your stone says?”

“Stop that.”

They strolled down the tree-lined street, trying to look as casual as possible. As they walked past house after house, Callum felt the tingling on his arm grow from a mere irritation to almost a sting, a desperate grab for his attention as they drew closer to the concentrated negative energy. They passed a darkened house, and the Dragon-Blood was almost jerked from his feet as his own arm tried to pull him in the opposite direction. He turned slowly to look at the house. Unlike the rest of the street, where lamps blazed in the windows, the openings at the front of this house were dark – not just dark, but pitch black, no hint of what was contained within was visible through the glass.

They shared a glance.

“That looks hopeful,” Nathaniel said.

“Your definition of hopeful and mine are startlingly different,” Elizabeth snapped, her eyes looking over the windows. She reached into the pocket of her coat, and pulled out her revolver.

Callum glanced up and down the street, checking for any observers. Seeing none, he flicked his wrist, summoning the silver sword to his hand. He felt the blade tug towards the house, and glanced down at it.

“Not yet. Soon.”

“Are you talking to your stone again, Callum?” Nathaniel asked, the humour strained as the tension rose again.

Callum smiled wryly.

“Don't laugh. It definitely has some form of consciousness.” He glanced at the door of the house.

“I suppose we should check it out.”

He walked up the short flight of steps to the door, and reached up to knock. The door swung open before he even touched the knocker. He glanced into the darkness inside.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Silence was his only response. He raised the sword, and prepared to step inside.

The blow came from nowhere, catapulting him back into the street. He landed hard on his back, his breath driven from his body by the force of the impact, and lay motionless for a few moments. Elizabeth and Nathaniel ran to him, and dropped beside his prone body.