Weird Detectives (56 page)

“
I hae done whit wis requested. Something hae been brocht back. Whever it be fit fur the task will hae to be seen. She is confused and sair afflicted, but it is her. There is nae doobt o’ that. It is a great blasphemy, but it needed done, and I am content to await the accountability of God alone. It will be wurth a’ the trials if it brings the end o’ tyranny and the return o’ that which wis taken from us.

“As you can imagine, that did not enlighten me to any great extent. An examination of the paper showed it to be of a similar date to the
Concordances
, but more than that I could not ascertain.

“By now it was well into the reaches of the night and I had more than enough to think on. I spent the hours through until morning in fitful sleep on a bed that was scarcely worthy of the name. As soon as the sun came up I rose, made what ablutions I could, and went in search of some breakfast.

“The housekeeper was in the kitchen, and proved as irascible as before. I was unceremoniously served with a thick porridge that looked like gray paste but was surprisingly tasty, and a pair of smoked kippers that were as divine as anything ever served in any fine hotel in town.

“I thanked her profusely, but still she did not soften . . . not until I mentioned the child, Lisabet.

“ ‘I have no time for you poking around in the lady’s room,’ she said. ‘That girl is the only reason I stay in this godforsaken place. A sweeter child you will never meet.’

“And at that I do believe I saw a tear in the housekeeper’s eye. But when I looked again, the steely glint had returned. I tried to ask about the back room on the second floor, and the calf-bound journal, but she brooked no discussion of either that, or the bogle.

“ ‘It is the laird’s place to tell any stories, not mine.’

“She would say no more, and as I moved around the lower floors of the castle I realized there were no other servants there for me to question. I resolved that I would put my questions to the source, the bogle itself, that very night.

“That left me with a day to fill. I took myself off for a walk around the castle grounds. The laird kept a fine garden, full of plants drawn from all quarters of the globe, and the views across the valley were clear and bright on a fine sunny day such as this. Later I left the castle itself and wandered into the small town that butted up against the main exterior wall of the grounds. Several locals eyed me warily, but I managed to loosen tongues in the local inn when I spent a guinea buying those present some ale and whisky.

“Yet again my attempt to find information was to be foiled. All present had indeed heard of the bogle in the castle, but theories about its origins were as many as the number of flagons I had bought. There was only one statement that stayed with me as I returned to my small billet. It was something the landlord of the inn said as I left.

“ ‘ ’Tis a shame we only have the laird and the bairn,’ he said. ‘For yon castle is fit for bigger than that. ’Tis fit for royalty.’

Carnacki stopped, tapped out the pipe in the grate and refilled it.

“I wonder if any of you are beginning to understand what was ahead of me?”

Arkwright raised a hand, like a boy in a schoolroom, but Carnacki waved him down.

“No. Let us save theories and explanations until the story is done.

“Let me just say that as I waited for night to fall, I was starting to have an inkling as to the nature of the bogle.”

“I began the evening by setting up the pentagram in the child’s bedroom. I was by no means sure that any such defenses were necessary but discretion is usually the better part of valor. I overlaid the electric pentacle on the pentagram, attached it to the battery, and settled down to wait, eschewing the child’s chair this time, preferring to sit inside the pentagram on the hard wood floor.

“And once again I did not have to wait long. I was still on my first pipe when the air chilled and soft footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. I do not know whether it was the presence of the pentagram or not, but this time the mist that came through the doorway seemed more solid, more in a shape representing a human figure. And there was something more—the faintest hint of a high heady perfume.

“The mist entered and again paid no heed to me. As it drifted over to the child’s bed the azure valve brightened slightly, but there was none of the blazing intensity I would have expected had the apparition been less than benign.

“The odor of the perfume grew stronger still, and beneath that, something else I recognized; the dank dead smell of the grave.

“Whispers came from within the mist as it loomed over the bed, and I had to strain to make out the words.

“ ‘It was mine by right,’ a soft voice said. ‘Mine by birth. She shall not have it again.’

“As the figure turned away from the bedside it brushed against the outer edge of my electric pentacle. The azure valve brightened and at the same instant the mist
thickened
until it had taken the form of a tall, painfully thin figure. A woman stood looking sadly back at the small bed. She was dressed in a long black robe of a thick velvet, and a hood partly obscured her features so that all I could see was a flash of white at her cheek and a thin, aquiline nose. As she turned further the robe encroached on my defenses. She
jolted
as if struck, the hood fell back, and by Jove I took one heck of a fright I can tell you.

“It was not the empty stare from the eyes that shocked me, nor the cold gray tongue that looked like a piece of old stone. No, the thing that took me aback and near robbed me of my senses was the red scar that ran clear round her neck just above the shoulders . . . a scar that still wept blood down her chest.

“I shuffled backwards across the pentacle, but she showed no sign of approaching me, nor of trying to breach the defenses. She had one last look at the bed, and whispered again.

“ ‘Mine by birth. She shall not have it.’ ”

Carnacki sat back in his chair and smiled.

“I do believe I have given you quite enough clues now,” he said. “But please, let me finish the story. It is time now for you chaps to recharge your glasses for the final push.”

By this time I was also coming to some conclusions as to the nature of Carnacki’s bogle, and I was keen to see if I had guessed correctly. I believe everyone present felt the same, for we refilled our snifters in record time and were soon ready for Carnacki to continue.

“She left the room, footsteps fading along the corridor. Silence fell but I sat there a while longer before rising, pondering my next move. I knew it would cause consternation in the household, but the way ahead was clear to me. I had to persuade the laird to return to the house, and to bring his daughter with him. For only by direct confrontation could this business be finished once and for all.

“Getting the man back to the castle was easier said than done. It required a series of terse telegrams between the post office in Forfar and London which caused a great deal of chatter in the town and cost me several guineas in bills for a carriage to and from Glamis itself. Finally we reached agreement, and all I could do was wait for their return.

“That was to take more than a week, during which time I took in a trip around the Perthshire Hills and met an adversary who was much less benign. But that is a tale for another evening. Suffice to say I spent the time fruitfully and on the day the laird arrived from London with his retinue I was at the door of the castle waiting for him.

“A child I guessed was Lisabet held him tightly by the hand, but as they approached the door she let go and ran past me, heading inside.

“ ‘She seems to have forgotten all about the bogle,’ the Laird said as he shook my hand. ‘Perhaps it is best to keep it that way?’

“ ‘I doubt that very much sir,’ I replied. ‘I have some questions I need you to answer, then you will have a decision to make.’

“He nodded curtly and went inside.

“It was my turn to mind my manners, and I held my peace through a fine supper of salmon and pheasant, washed down with some excellent port. I waited until everyone else had retired, and we were sat in armchairs around a fireplace before I broached the matter at hand.

“The laird seemed surprised at the questions I put to him, but not as much as I would have thought. He poured us a snifter of brandy each, and it seemed he was buying time to muster his thoughts, as if deciding what to reveal to me.

“ ‘There were rumors,’ he finally said. ‘Tales that an attempt such as you describe had been made. You have seen the window . . . you know already that this place has a history in such matters?’

“I nodded in reply.

“ ‘But what in Jesu’s name is my daughter’s part in all of this?’ he asked me. ‘She is only a child, and innocent of any hurts done in centuries past.’

“ ‘The coincidence of the names at least is obvious,’ I replied. ‘But answers may only become clear in time. It may be something in the child’s future that has brought this attention on her.’

“The laird looked pensive at that, but said nothing.

“ ‘With your permission,’ I said softly. ‘I would like to give the lady some rest. I think you will agree that she deserves that at least?’

“It was his turn to nod in agreement.

“We made our way to Lisabet’s room and found the child examining the chalk markings I had made on the floor. She was most excited when I brought out the electric pentacle. Her father gave her a stern warning to
haud her wheesht
and she fell quiet as I first repaired the defenses, then set the pentacle to work.

“The three of us sat, pressed close together

“ ‘What is it we are waiting for?’ Lisabet asked.

Her father replied for me.

“ ‘A princess,’ he said. ‘Just like you.’

“He ruffled her hair, and at that very same moment the soft footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. We smelled the heady perfume even before she walked through the doorway.

“This time she was almost fully formed. The black velvet robe looked like a hole in the very fabric of space itself, her pale face hovering like a moon above it. The dead eyes turned and stared at the child.

“ ‘You took it,’ she whispered. ‘It is mine by right, and you took it from me.’

Lisabet stiffened but did not cry out, merely stared back at the thing before her.

“ ‘I do not know you, madam,’ she said, so prim and proper that I had to stifle a laugh. ‘Kindly be so good as to introduce yourself.’

The robed figure loomed over us. Once again the only activity from the pentacle was a slight brightening of the azure valve.

“ ‘Madam,’ I said softly. ‘This is not your sister. She has been dead these three centuries and more. There is no place for you here.’

“The darkness thickened slightly and the blank eyes turned towards me. Bloody tears ran from them.

“ ‘Go?’ she whispered. ‘That is my dearest wish. But I know not how.’

“ ‘Let me help,’ I said softly, and uttered the prayer of passing.

“ ‘
Adjuro ergo te, omnis immundíssime spiritus, omne phantasma, omnis incursio satanæ, in nomine Jesu Christi.
’

“She broke apart, like smoke taken by wind. At the last, a wispy tendril reached towards the child.

“ ‘Lisabet,’ came a whisper.

“Then she was gone.

“ ‘What did that lady want with me?’ the girl asked as I packed away the pentacle and cleaned the chalk from the floor.’

“ ‘She was dead, but did not know it,’ I replied. ‘And she thought you were someone she knew a long time ago.’

“ ‘Well I’m not going to die,’ Lisabet said loudly. ‘I shall live till I’m a hundred.’

“And do you know something, chaps? I do believe she might just do it.”

Carnacki sat back in his chair, a wide grin on his face.

“Before we get to
who
the apparition might have been, I suppose I had better tell you
how
it came about.

“You chaps all know that I do not believe in the soul as such,” he continued. “And at first, this bogle almost made me doubt my own convictions. But having thought long and hard, I believe I may have the truth of it.

“It starts in the late sixteenth century, with an attempt by a Scottish alchemist to revive a dead lady. Now I have studied the Great Work to some degree, and have already this evening commented on the amalgamation of the microcosm with the macrocosm. What no one, not the alchemist, nor I, had considered, was what effect the transformation would have on a body already dead. What was transformed was not capable of ascension to the Outer Realms, the macrocosm. It was forced to remain, rooted to its earthly plane, doomed for eternity to roam, seeking something it could never find.

“And you came along and freed it?” Jessop piped up.

“Freed
her
,” Carnacki said softly. “For there was still something there of the lady she had once been.”

“And who was she exactly, Carnacki?” Arkwright said. “Lady Macbeth?”

Carnacki laughed loudly at that.

“No. Not that one, but the lady I sent to her rest was also of noble birth. Come, chaps. Have I not given you enough clues? The date of the journal alone should give you some idea? And the place, the seat of an ancient Scottish family? If you have not the wit to work it out for yourself then I have not the inclination to enlighten you. All I shall say is we should look out for the name Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon in the years ahead, for I believe she has a destiny that the whole country will come to understand in time.”

At that Carnacki rose from his chair, the time honored signal that our evening was over.

“Out you go,” he said jovially at the door.

As we left Carnacki whispered just one word in my ear, but it was enough for me to consider on the way back along the Embankment. By the time I reached home I had confirmed my own earlier guess as to the identity of the Beast of Glamis.

Carnacki’s whispered word stayed in my mind even as I drifted to sleep.

Fotheringay.

William Meikle
is a Scottish writer now resident in Canada. He has fifteen novels published in the genre press and over two hundred and fifty short story credits in thirteen countries. More of his stories featuring William Hope Hodgson’s Carnacki have been collected in
Heaven and Hell
. His work appears in many professional magazines and anthologies and he has recent short story sales to
Nature’s
science-fiction section
Futures
,
Penumbra
, and
Daily Science Fiction
among others. He now lives in a remote corner of Newfoundland with icebergs, whales, and bald eagles for company. In the winters he gets warm vicariously through the lives of others in cyberspace, so please check him out at www.williammeikle.com.