Carnacki: Heaven and Hell Read online

  “I fell to the ground, insensate.”

  * * *

  Carnacki stopped in his telling and looked around at us. I followed his gaze and saw that the others were struck with the same dumb horror as I.

  He laughed aloud.

  “Do not worry yourselves unduly my friends,” he said. “I am still alive.”

  He pulled up his shirt and showed us a white bandage that was wrapped around his body.

  “But I am not yet fully well. I’m afraid I am too tired to finish the story tonight. But if we can meet again tomorrow evening, I can promise a conclusion to the tale.”

  We went out into the night with many unanswered questions, and only the hope that they would be answered on our return.

  The next night began with an excellent meal of salmon that had been brought down on the Scotsman with Carnacki on his return. Once more he made us wait until the after dinner drinks before getting back to his tale, but he paid us the compliment of starting up immediately where he had left off.

  * * *

  “I woke just as the sun showed enough strength to melt the frost that was settled on the windows.

  “I was lying on the Captain’s bed. The old soldier and his housekeeper were both bent over me. The worried looks on their faces might almost have been comical in other circumstances. I tried to sit up, only to be rewarded with a hot pain in the ribs. The Captain gently pushed me back on the bed.

  “‘Rest man,’ he said. ‘You took a wound meant for me. The least I can do is lend you my bed for a while.’

  “I leaned over enough to check the protections. All were still in place.

  “They left me alone there in the room, and I slept the morning away. By the time the afternoon came around I was starting to feel like my old self and was able to rise and shuffle to the kitchen, only to be scolded like a miscreant child by the housekeeper. I talked her into providing coffee, and after I had a pipe-full of tobacco I felt greatly improved.

  “The Captain had once more taken himself off to his club, so I used the afternoon in preparing for the night to come. Firstly I remade the pentacle. It took longer this time, for I was slowed by my injury, but eventually the job was done to my satisfaction once more. I knew that the protections worked against the haunt. Now it was time to answer some of our questions.

  “I consulted the Sigsand MS on the matter of spells of revelation and was happy to find that I had all the necessary supplies for the invocation on hand. It took but ten minutes to make up the required powder. At dinner I laid out my plans to the Captain. He was no longer quite so dismissive of my heathen mumbo-jumbo, and agreed to take to his bed within the pentacle to allow my investigation to progress.

  “Once more I prepared to stand vigil outside the Captain’s room. I sat in the armchair smoking and running the invocation over and over in my head until I was satisfied I had it down pat for if I made even the slightest error both mine and the Captain’s very souls could be in danger. I cannot speak the words to you gathered here, for to speak them out of context is also dangerous. Just know my friends that the Sigsand MS was once more about to prove up to the task I had set.

  “The air went cold and the shadows grew above the fireplace. A wind whistled in my ears as I rose and slid into the bedchamber. As before, a black shadow grew where there was no light to cast it. Before it had time to press an attack I took the powder from my pocket and, shouting the words of invocation, demanded that the haunt reveal itself.

  “Frost ran over the windows like a web cast by a crazed spider. The shadow swelled, sending out smoky tendrils. I threw the powder into the air over it.

  “The effect was immediate. The shadow fell in on itself and thickened. The air in the room got colder still and ice crackled in my moustache.

  “I saw the spear first, the shadow taking form at the blade first, then thickening further to show the wood of the haft. It was then I got my first surprise. I had expected the attacker to be a Zulu warrior from that long-past battle, but the shadow gathered to show a white hand around the spear.

  “It thrust the weapon forward towards the bed, but the pentacle held.

  “A human form appeared from the shadow. It wore the red-serge uniform of a British soldier. The face showed the grey pallor of death and the eyes were little more than black pools sunk deep in the skull. But there was no mistaking the malice with which the spectre thrust the spear towards the bed.

  “Sparks flew throughout the room as the pentacle blazed. Yet it held, even as the attack intensified.

  “I was at a loss as to my next move. The Captain decided matters for me. He woke, sitting up in the bed with a jolt and a scream. His gaze fell on the uniformed figure, and puzzlement replaced terror on his face.

  “‘McKay? Is that you?’

  “The spectre showed no sign of hearing him. It continued to press its attack, again and again. The valves of the electric pentacle were beginning to dim and I realized that the battery was being used up rapidly by the efforts needed to repel the attack. Indeed, just as I noticed this, the azure glare faded. The next thrust of the spear went clean through the protection and took the Captain in the muscle of his right arm. Blood spread quickly through the man’s night-shirt and he fell back on the bed.

  “As if satisfied, the spectre dissipated. The last thing to go was the spear’s tip, red and dripping with the Captain’s blood.”

  * * *

  Carnacki paused in his telling to allow us a chance to recharge our glasses.

  Now that I knew he was injured I could see that he favoured his right hand side, and that there was some stiffness in his bearing that was not usually apparent.

  It did nothing to affect his storytelling ability. As usual his tale demanded our full attention.

  “Now, gentlemen, we get to the nub of the matter,” he said, and we were immediately back into the story.

  * * *

  “Once again I had to rouse the housekeeper to have her perform nursing duties. Afterwards the Captain and I went through to the parlour and started to make inroads in his whisky. I waited until he was on his second glass before broaching the subject at hand.

  “‘You recognized the man,’ I said. It was not a question.

  “He stared at the spear, and the new blood there. He was quiet for a while before replying.

  “‘I have not yet told you the whole story of what occurred at Uluni in seventy-nine, for I did not think it pertinent. Now I am not so sure.

  “‘McKay and I had fought side by side across three continents and twelve years even before the Zulu war. No man ever had a truer friend, or a more entertaining drinking partner. Uluni proved to be one of the closest scrapes we ever got ourselves in.

  “‘I have already spoken of the wound I took to my thigh. What I did not tell you is that in taking the wound I was struck from my horse. Two Zulu loomed over me and I made my peace with the Lord, for I thought for sure that my number had come up.

  “‘McKay had other ideas. He put himself in front of the Zulu and took both of them on, giving me time to remount. He killed both, but took a sore wound in the belly.

  “‘I carried him from the field myself.’

  “He stopped and took a long gulp of the whisky.

  “‘The wound suppurated in the infernal heat. McKay was sent back home to a sanatorium and was years in healing. Even then, he was never the same man again. We kept in touch for a while, but it is more than twenty years since I have seen or heard of him.

  “‘Until tonight.’

  “He finished his whisky and headed for the bottle.

  “‘What did we see?’ he whispered. ‘Did we see a ghost?’

  “‘I believe so. And a malevolent one at that.’

  “Little more was said that night. The Captain turned the conversation to more mundane matters. I could see that he had taken a sore fright, and I respected his desire for some distance from the earlier events. We talked of politics and cricket until the whisky was gone and this sunlight filter
ed in from outside. Only then did the Captain feel safe in retiring to bed. I left him to sleep and ventured out into the city in search of answers.”

  * * *

  “I have never underestimated the power of legwork and money in getting to the bottom of matters, and both proved worthy that same morning.

  “The housekeeper had not heard of the man McKay – the Captain had never told her the tale. She did however know much of the ways of the city, and was able to direct me to places the good Captain would never suspect existed.

  “Noon found me in a bar in the waterfront area of Leith full of old salts and old soldiers all attempting to lose themselves in liquor. It was the third such place I had visited, and my wallet was far emptier that it had been previously. But I had the scent of the hunt in my nostrils. I was closing in on my man.

  “My instincts were proven right. It took half an hour and three different conversations, but I left the bar with an address and a picture in my mind of an old soldier brought low first by sickness then by envy.”

  “The address proved to be little more than a hovel, and the men that lived there had sunk as low as one can get without disappearing from the face of the earth completely. Every man stank of cheap liquor, and none had seen a washhouse in many months. It was here that I finally found the last piece of the puzzle. A decrepit figure with more fingers than teeth told how McKay had taken to begging on the streets of the city to pay for liquor. One day, in the Castlegate, he had approached a military man, only to be instantly rebuffed.

  “The recognition had only been one way. McKay had seen the man whose life he had saved. The Captain had seen just another beggar.

  “The last months of McKay’s life had been full of bitterness and envy, and he had gone to his grave several weeks past cursing Captain McLeod, and vowing that he would have his day, in this life or the next.

  “It seems the latter was to be the case.”

  * * *

  Carnacki paused to refill his pipe.

  “It was here that I made a near fatal error of judgement. I must ask you, my friends, to forgive this lapse, but having heard my tale, I am sure that you too would have come to the same conclusions as I.

  “Indeed, the Captain seemed to find my explanation most probable.”

  * * *

  “The Captain’s housekeeper plied me with jam tarts as sweet as honey as I laid out my plan for the coming night. I had the Captain send for a battery for the pentacle while I once again made good the defensive barriers. It seems that the Captain had some clout in the town, for the new battery arrived within the hour and I was able to connect the valves just as night started to fall.

  “I sat in the armchair reviewing an exorcism from the Sigsand MS which purported to be efficacious in removing a jealous haunt. By the time it got too dim to read I had the spell firmly in my mind and I felt ready, indeed eager, for the night’s activities to begin.

  “Once again the house fell dark and quiet around me. By now I well knew what to expect, and I had stood and slid into the Captain’s room almost as soon as the shadows started to gather above the mantel.

  “The Captain had eschewed any thought of sleep. He sat, fully clothed, on the edge of the bed, watching the dark shadows gather outside the softly glowing pentacle. I threw the last of the powder from my pocket over the shade, and pronounced the invocation of revelation I had used the night before.

  “Ice ran and crackled in thin tendrils all over the walls. The shadow contracted, darkening and thickening. The air got so cold that each breath felt like it might freeze my very lungs in place.

  “The spear took form first and the shadow gathered to once more show the thin white hand around the haft as the weapon was thrust forward towards the bed.

  “The pentacle blazed. Sparks flew, but the defences held.

  “McKay’s form appeared from the shadow, the red-serge uniform the colour of fresh blood. He raised the spear for another blow. Fearing that the battery might not survive a further series of attacks, I stepped forward and called out the exorcism. As I spoke McKay’s dead black eyes stared straight at me, and the cold seemed to pierce my very soul. But he held his attack as my badly-spoken Latin rang around the room.

  “The spell came to an end.

  “ADJÚRO ergo te, omnis immundíssime spíritus, omne phantásma, omnis incúrsio sátanæ, in nómini Jesu Christ.

  “My declamatory shouting had been to no avail. McKay’s form did not fade. Indeed the cold seemed to deepen further, and the spectre took on an even closer semblance of life.

  “It continued to press the attack and once more the pentacle blazed with sparks. McKay was more solid now, and I had a clear view of both the spear and the red serge uniform. A gaping wound showed where the man had taken a stab to the guts. Blood dripped, thick heavy drops vanishing before they hit the floor.

  “I shouted the last line of the chant again.

  “ADJÚRO ergo te, omnis immundíssime spíritus, omne phantásma, omnis incúrsio sátanæ, in nómini Jesu Christ.

  “Once more the attack continued unabated. Even the new battery was not going to take much more. The blue glare was already less bright. McKay lunged forward with the spear aimed straight at the Captain’s heart. The old soldier threw himself to one side just in time.

  “As McKay withdrew from the thrust I immediately realized that I had made a mistake in my judgement. The weapon that pressed the attack was not the same as the one over the mantel, being several feet longer and with a much thinner blade. And as McKay’s form grew more distinct, I saw a phantom outline of the Iklwa, stuck in its place, deep in the wound in his belly!

  “I ran out into the parlour as if the dogs of hell were at my heels.

  “The Iklwa was where I expected, above the mantel. Fresh blood dripped from the blade. And now I knew the truth of it. The blood was neither the Captain’s, nor mine, but McKay’s, from the wound in his gut.

  “I pulled the weapon from its moorings on the wall with some force, taking some of the paint and plaster with it. Once again at a run I made for the Captain’s bedchamber, arriving just in time to see the thrusting spear pierce the old man in the left shoulder.

  “The valves of the pentacle were almost spent. At any moment the defences would fail completely, and the old man would surely be killed. I hefted the iklwa and stepped into the circle, putting myself between McKay and the old man.

  “The focus of the attack immediately switched to me, and I found myself in a fight for my life. The iklwa clashed with McKay’s assagai. More sparks flew -- the last remnants of the protection. The blue glow surged brightly for a second as the battery had one last hurrah. Then the defences were gone.

  “The spectre lunged forward in a blow that would have pierced my heart if I had not seen it coming. I stepped inside it – and thrust the iklwa deep into McKay’s gut. The material weapon in my hand merged with the immaterial already lodged in the man’s belly. The spectre howled -- a wail of anguish and pain I will hear for many nights to come.

  “The weapon in my hands went as cold as a stone in a winter river as McKay fell apart into black shadows. The darkness thrashed violently and loomed over me, reaching for the Captain. The iklwa seemed to leap in my hands. It stabbed into the shadow. The blackness immediately fell apart, like burnt paper turning to ash in a wind.

  “A cold breeze blew through the room. Suddenly the night had fallen quiet. I let the weapon fall to the floor and followed it down to the ground where I sat on my haunches, totally spent.”

  * * *

  “In the morning we buried the iklwa in the Captain’s garden. The old man said the words and sang Onward Christian Soldiers. Then we returned to the parlour and made strong inroads into another bottle of his fine Scotch, each of us trying not to look at the blank space above the mantle.

  “We both needed several days to recover from our wounds, in which time we made a nuisance of ourselves with the housekeeper. Each day I rebuilt the defences in the pentacle, but they were not
required.

  “The old man was distraught to think that he might have caused at least some of his own woes by being less than charitable to an old comrade in arms.

  “‘Was he brought here by the iklwa – or by his rage at me?’ he said.

  “I could not give him a straight answer. In my heart I believe that McKay and the spear were joined together in an unholy matrimony, even as far back as the time of the original wounding.

  “Only one thing is clear.

  “The iklwa, and the man it had ultimately killed, are now both at rest.”

  * * *

  Carnacki was solemn as he showed us out.

  “Out you go," he said, but without his usual smile. Indeed none of us felt much like talking and we left, each man making his own way along the Embankment in silence.

  It was to be several weeks before another card came inviting us to 427, Cheyne Walk and in truth, I was glad of the break.

  The Larkhill Barrow

  Carnacki's card of invitation arrived just as I was starting to wonder what he was up to this time. On Friday evening I arrived at seven o’ clock prompt at his lodgings in Chelsea at 427, Cheyne Walk.

  Carnacki motioned me through to the parlour where I found the three others already there awaiting me. It was not long before Carnacki, Arkwright, Jessop, Taylor and I were all seated at Carnacki’s dining table. As usual talk was confined to inconsequential gossip until we repaired to the parlour for after-dinner drinks. By the time we got our glasses filled and our smokes lit we were all on tenterhooks, eager for the tale of Carnacki’s latest escapades.

  He did not keep us waiting, launching straight into a story that immediately had us captivated.

  * * *

  “I am sorry it has been so long since our last meeting,” he began. “But I have been under a veil of secrecy that has only today been lifted. The reason for all the cloak and dagger flummery will become apparent as my tale unfolds, but let me begin by assuring you that it is as strange a story as any I have ever related, made stranger still for being performed under the auspices of His Majesty’s Royal Artillery.