Newbury & Hobbes 04 - The Executioner's Heart (30 page)

“I’m sorry to rouse you from your bed, Mrs. Grant, but this really is a matter of urgency,” he said, pressing her. “I do need to speak with Miss Hobbes. It cannot wait.”

“Very well,” she conceded, with a sigh. “I suppose you’d better step in out of the rain.” She held the door open for him and he ducked into the hall, thanking her.

She looked him up and down. “Oh…” she exclaimed, as she fully appreciated the condition of his torn and blood-spattered clothes for the first time. “You appear to have been in the wars, Sir Maurice. Are you quite well?”

Newbury nodded. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Grant.”

She shook her head, in what Newbury took to be a gesture of exasperation. “Right. Well, if you’d be kind enough to wait there for a moment, I’ll see if Miss Hobbes is prepared to see you.”

“Thank you,” he said. She ascended the stairs to the next floor. Everything was quiet in the house other than the creak of her footfalls on the treads and the rattle of his own breath.

She reappeared a moment later wearing a frown, and hurried back down to join him in the hallway. “I’m afraid Miss Hobbes is not here,” she said, the concern evident in her voice. “Her bed is undisturbed, and she is not in the drawing room.”

Newbury smiled reassuringly, but his heart was hammering in his chest. Where was she? Perhaps he’d missed her, and she had returned to Chelsea as planned after all. If so, she’d be sitting with Scarbright now, awaiting his return. The alternative was almost unfathomable. “I’m sure it’s nothing to trouble yourself with, Mrs. Grant. I had, in fact, arranged to meet with Miss Hobbes at my house, but found myself otherwise engaged. I’d assumed she would return home for the evening, but I must have been mistaken. I imagine that she is awaiting me at Chelsea even now.”

“Hmmm,” said Mrs. Grant, a note of disapproval in her tone. “At this hour. You may be a gentleman, Sir Maurice, and I do not doubt your intentions, but you must think of Miss Hobbes’s reputation and well-being.”

“I understand,” said Newbury, patiently, “and your concern does you credit, Mrs. Grant. I assure you, I have only Miss Hobbes’s best interests at heart.” He smiled. “Now, I apologise profusely for waking you unnecessarily. If Miss Hobbes does happen to return before I’ve had chance to speak with her at Chelsea, I’d ask that you please explain to her that I called, and that I will call again first thing in the morning.”

“Very well,” said Mrs. Grant, with a heavy sigh. “Good night to you, Sir Maurice.”

“Good night,” he replied, taking his leave. He signalled to the driver as he hurried down the garden path to the waiting cab. “Cleveland Avenue, Chelsea,” he said. “As quickly as you can.”

*   *   *

Newbury willed the cab to go faster, despite the fact that it was already churning through the wet streets at an undeniable pace. He desperately hoped that he’d return to Chelsea to find Veronica waiting for him there. It was late, and by his reckoning she’d been missing for some hours. Rationally, he knew there must be an explanation for her absence, but given his encounter with the Executioner earlier that evening and his epiphany regarding the Prince of Wales, he couldn’t deny that she was an obvious target. She was close to both Newbury and Bainbridge, for a start, and she was involved in the investigation into the Executioner’s murders. If the Prince wanted to tidy up after himself, she would be the next logical target after Newbury himself.

He stared out of the window, but could discern little of their location from the misty smear of houses as they rushed by in the darkness. He glanced at his pocket watch. They had to be halfway there by now.

He started at the sound of a heavy thud on the roof of the cab. The vehicle jolted slightly, as if the driver was struggling to keep it under control. Newbury leaned forward to open the window and call up to the man when the cab swerved suddenly to the left. He was thrown across the seat, banging his head painfully against the wooden frame. He righted himself, smarting, but the entire vehicle was rocking violently now as it continued to pelt along the cobbled lanes. He struggled to maintain his balance.

He heard a man cry out, followed by a piercing, inhuman shriek, an animalistic wail that caused his hackles to rise. The cab shuddered again as it struck the kerb and careened away, still barrelling along at speed, but clearly out of control.

Newbury grasped the handrail by the left-hand door and steadied himself. Then, with a huge effort, fighting against the momentum of the bouncing vehicle, he pulled himself upright and slid the window open. The cold night wafted in, blasting his face with rainwater. He could see now that the cab was describing a zigzag pattern up the street, thudding against the kerb on one side, then careening into the other and bouncing back again, over and over.

He twisted, glancing up at the dickey box, and recoiled in horror at the sight. The driver swayed back and forth with the movement of the vehicle, but only the lower half of the man’s torso was visible. His head, one arm, and most of his chest were missing. What remained was still propped up in the driver’s box, blood spurting from the ragged wound. The man had literally been torn in half. Whatever had done that to him was capable of immense strength.

Newbury felt something shift on the roof, and slid back into the main compartment of the cab. He had to get out there and take charge of the vehicle’s controls before they careened into the side of a building or another oncoming vehicle. He considered jumping out, but at this speed he’d be dashed across the cobbles, or at the very least would sustain numerous shattered bones, leaving him injured and prey to whatever was up there on the roof.

Could it be the Executioner? He didn’t think so. The manner in which the driver had been killed was far too feral—primal, even—and lacked the finesse of her previous kills. What, then?

His question was answered a second later when a fist slammed down through the wooden roof in a hail of splinters. Newbury covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow as the fragments rained down upon his face and shoulders, stinging where they punctured his flesh.

He staggered back as a clawed hand thrashed about in the cab for a moment, before withdrawing and punching through the roof again, widening the aperture. Newbury ducked from side to side to avoid the creature’s curving black talons as they swept back and forth, searching for him. He dropped into the footwell, out of reach, and peered up through the hole, trying to get a sense of what it was that had set upon the cab.

His first thought was of a revenant—the pale, ragged flesh, the unnatural strength, the elongated black talons—but when he saw the thing lower its face into the hole and peer through at him, everything suddenly became clear.

The creature had, indeed, once been a man, but unlike a revenant it was not the victim of an unpredictable microscopic plague, but the result of an appalling experiment in surgical augmentation. This man had been afflicted by design, not by an accident of nature. His lower jaw had been replaced with a brace of enamel tusks, and one eye had been entirely excised, a strange, mechanical lens affixed in its place. Black tubing erupted in a knot from its throat, then curled away over its shoulders and out of sight. The remaining human eye was jaundiced and watery, and was fixed on Newbury, radiating hatred.

This was the work of the Cabal. He had seen these minions before, half-transformed into monsters through their unwavering devotion to their insane masters. Aldous was right. The Cabal
did
want their book back, and enough to send one of their abominations to kill him for it. Clearly, they’d decided he’d had long enough to accept their invitation to commit ritual suicide, and had decided to take matters into their own hands.

The man-thing screeched, working its false jaw up and down in a gnashing motion. It began scrabbling at the sides of the hole, ripping free large chunks of wood and casting them away into the road. It was as if the creature were peeling away the layers of an onion, with Newbury trapped inside, awaiting the inevitable.

All the while, the cab continued to veer out of control, the dead driver’s foot still pressed firmly upon the accelerator.

If he remained where he was, Newbury was going to die. He wasn’t strong enough to take on the creature unarmed in such a cramped space, and if he didn’t deal with the out-of-control cab in the next few moments, it would all be over regardless.

He glanced at the door. He could force it open and climb out onto the footplate. From there he’d have a chance to leap up onto the roof and scrabble across to the dickey box, provided the cab didn’t hit something in the meantime and throw him off completely. It was a chance he’d have to take.

The creature was on the roof, though, between him and the dickey box. He didn’t fancy his chances against it up there.

He needed to swap places with it. If he could trap it inside the cab, even if just for a moment, he’d have a chance to get to the controls. After that, he had no idea.

He watched it gouging away more of the wooden roof and shuddered. It was more animal than man. It would rip him apart within moments if he gave it the opportunity, just as it had the driver. He had to strike first, to take the initiative and catch it unawares. It was his only chance. It didn’t feel like much of a plan, but it was all he had.

Newbury crept forward, keeping low.

The scrabbling stopped, and the man-thing returned to swiping for him, its glossy black talons—each about three inches long, formed from spears of iron—only inches from his head. It grunted as it leaned forward, shifting its weight, and the shattered wood around the hole creaked in protest, threatening to cave in. Newbury was breathing hard, trying to pick his time.

The cab lurched again, suddenly, and he fell back, the creature splaying its hands across the roof to help it hold on. It recovered faster than Newbury, and its next swipe caught the back of his collar, shredding the fabric and drawing large welts across the nape of Newbury’s neck. He howled in pain and dropped low, rolling out of its reach. He drew to his knees just as the man-thing was straining forward with its arm extended. Then he saw his chance. He leapt up, grabbing it firmly by the wrist and yanking down, hard, throwing all of his weight behind the motion.

Newbury fell backwards towards the door, and the creature, unable to slow its momentum, came crashing forward through the hole in the roof, tumbling face down onto the floor of the cab.

Newbury didn’t wait to see if it had survived the fall. Instead he twisted around, grabbed the handle of the door, and leaned against it. It opened and he fell through.

For a moment he hung dangerously from the door, his feet trailing inside the main compartment of the cab. Rain lashed his face, and the shuddering of the cab as it bounced unattended over the cobbled road threatened to shake him free.

He saw the creature shifting inside, and swung his legs out, mercifully finding purchase on the footplate. He pulled himself up so that he was once again vertical, clinging to the side of the cab, and shuffled to the edge of the footplate, giving him room enough to slam the door shut on the creature inside. He didn’t imagine it would offer him much extra time, but he was unsure if the man-thing would be able to work the handle in its rabid frenzy.

He glanced along the street. They were approaching a junction. He had only moments to get to the controls before the cab careened into the side of an office building, or was struck by traffic coming from another direction.

The remains of the driver’s body were still rocking back and forth with the motion of the cab, moving spasmodically like a suffocating fish in the last of its death throes.

Gritting his teeth, Newbury reached up and felt for the rim that ran around the edge of the cab’s roof. He could hear the creature shifting about inside, prowling in circles as it tried to work out how to get to him.

He took the strain in his fingers and heaved himself up, crying out in pain as he bloodied his fingertips in the process. His damaged forearm protested, but he clung on for dear life as the cab swayed and shook, threatening to overbalance. He got the tip of his shoe on the window frame and finally managed to push himself the last few inches up, until his chest was over the lip. He scrabbled up and wound up spread-eagled on the roof, close to the ragged edge of the hole. His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps.

He was close, now. He had no idea how to operate the contraption, of course, but hoped he’d be able to work it out when he got there. He heaved himself up onto his knees, his palms still pressed flat to the roof. He started forward, but felt his trousers catch on something. He tugged, but there was no give. He glanced back, and realised in horror that it wasn’t his trousers at all, but that the man-thing’s left hand was wrapped tightly around his ankle.

Newbury growled in frustration and lashed out with his other foot, kicking at the creature’s forearm. It refused to let go, pulling down sharply on his leg, dragging him inexorably back towards the lip of the hole.

Newbury thrashed around, trying to find something to grab on to, but there was nothing there. He felt himself slide back, heard the creature howl in triumph. His legs were over the hole now, and he allowed himself to be pulled further back, slipping deeper into the nightmare maw of the cab. Then, at the last moment, he stamped down blindly with his right foot, hammering again and again with his heel. He felt something crunch as he connected with the creature’s face. It screeched in pain, releasing its grip on his ankle.

Swiftly, Newbury hauled himself up out of the hole again and scrambled across the roof towards the controls. He spun around and dropped feet first into the driver’s box, nudging the flapping remains of the driver to one side.

The controls consisted of two pedals, a lever, and a small, round steering wheel. He grabbed the wheel first, fighting the bucking vehicle as they careened towards the office building. He leaned to the left and pulled the wheel around hard, causing the vehicle to bank sharply. The cab veered out of the path of the building but tipped wildly in the process, two wheels lifting entirely off the ground.