Onyx City (The Lazarus Longman Chronicles Book 3) (11 page)

Chapter Ten

In which the darkest depths of the human mind are plumbed

‘Fat women, dwarfs, a living skeleton and a giant; enough to rival Buffalo Bill’s Red Indians!’ advertised the gaudy sheet of canvas above the entrance to the establishment in Spitalfields Market. One of many showcases of the novel, the bizarre and the grotesque to be found in London, people thronged there of a night to satisfy their curiosity concerning all things strange and exotic for the entrance fee of a penny. On Saturday nights, dancing Zulus performed.

Lazarus paid the young lady at the entrance for the admittance of four and they wandered into the lobby. The building had once been a furniture warehouse and had since been draped with green velvet. The scarred and dusty wooden floorboards supported a variety of extraordinary and shocking exhibits reportedly donated by the British and Foreign Medicine Institute. Pickled fetuses, children with two heads and bizarre animal hybrids floated in jars of formaldehyde. Wax models of terrible deformities and diseases were gawped at by men and women in their evening dress, squirming and blanching at each and every new monstrosity that caught their eye. They drank it up with voyeuristic relish, all to the jolly tune of the organ grinder that filtered in from outside.

In the corner of the room a penny peepshow depicted gruesome portraits of the Ripper killings, and attracted a considerable crowd of both rough locals and well-dressed people from further afield, demonstrating that bad taste truly transcends class. Lazarus and his companions did not stop to waste their attention on any of this, and Mansfield did a fine job of swallowing his unease. Instead, they made their way into the next room where the main attraction was to be held.

A bill next to the sliding doors advertised the talents of Miss Buki; ‘Gypsy Mystic, Mind-controller and Hypnotist!’ This was what Mary had brought them to see. Lazarus had to confess as he gazed at the garish poster with its ludicrous depiction of an exotic woman projecting what seemed to be rays of light from her forehead, he seriously questioned the worth of their visit. But Mary was convinced by the woman’s talents, and Lazarus so desperately wanted to help Mansfield that he was prepared to go through with just about any old bunkum.

The room was beginning to fill up and the few chairs that encircled the stage were inadequate for the number of people who pressed in to catch a glimpse of the mystic’s show. Mr. Clumps parted a way for them, and not for the first time Lazarus found himself in awe of the effect mere size could have on a crowd. Several seated men even gave up their seats for them and nervously scuttled off.

As they sat down, Lazarus picked up a tattered pamphlet that had been left on his seat by its previous occupant and examined it. It was a ‘penny dreadful’; one of those cheap and lurid publications that serialized the melodramatic exploits of folk heroes and villains. It was the title that caught his attention.
Sweeny Todd the Demon Barber and the Bath of Blood; a Romance of Exciting Interest
. He thumbed through it, reading a few paragraphs. It was hardly Dickens but seemed entertaining enough.

A man emerged on stage and greeted the audience as the manager of the establishment before presenting Miss Buki herself. Lazarus set down the penny dreadful as a modestly-attired woman sauntered onstage with quiet dignity. She was not young, but might still be considered attractive with her silver hair and dark, foreign eyes. Lazarus had expected a frumpish old woman with big hair and too much jewelry, mumbling incoherently over a crystal ball, as he had seen at many fairgrounds and travelling circuses. She did not sit but instead stood facing the audience. Behind her was a table spread with an array of various objects; a jug of water and a glass, a comb and a brass-handled mirror among other things.

She proceeded to amaze the crowd with mind tricks, making one volunteer drink the water, convinced it was vinegar, causing him to retch and spew to a roaring applause. A woman was brought forth and made to believe that she was a barber, and proceeded to comb and cut an imaginary person’s hair whilst the audience howled with laughter. Another man was brought up to the stage and after a few suggestions in Miss Buki’s hypnotic voice, became so terrified of his own reflection in the mirror that he cowered and cried for mercy.

At last Miss Buki bowed. The audience bellowed out their approval and the roof was almost lifted by their applause. The gypsy lady swept off stage and Mary turned to Lazarus, regarding him expectantly. “Not too shabby, eh?”

“Not at all,” he agreed. “Very entertaining.”

“Miss Buki is a good friend of mine. When I came to London she was my only friend, really. She took me under her wing and got me my first lodgings. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

They got up and followed Mary through the crowd as the manager presented the following act; a pair of young women whose special ability involved the lifting of heavy weights by their teeth. They went back out into the lobby and through a side door that led backstage.

Miss Buki was to be found in a small dressing room barely large enough to contain the table and chair that occupied it, much less four visitors.

“Mary, is that you, chavi?” she said, rising.

“Hello, Miss Buki,” Mary replied.

“Welcome, my dear, welcome! And your friends too!”

They squeezed into the little room and Mary and Miss Buki embraced. The room was stuffed full of various artifacts pertaining to its occupier’s vocation. As well as the usual gypsy knick-knacks, there were a surprising number of books piled up on shelves, diverse in subjects from history to science. Rolls of paper sketched with spidery diagrams of the brain and the human anatomy were stacked up loosely, and an alarmingly real-looking skull peered down from a top shelf. All in all, the room gave the impression of belonging to a surgeon with a flair for colorful trinkets.

“Well, my dear,” said Miss Buki, catching Lazarus surveying her quarters. “You look a little surprised.”

“I must confess that I am, Miss Buki,” he said. “I had expected something a little... different. I see you have a keen interest in the scientific.”

“The study of the mind is as fine a science as that of plants or animals,” she replied. “Unfortunately, it’s a study little recognized by institutions or the greater public, who show more care for witchcraft and crystal balls. Don’t be fooled by my performance on stage for it is naught but science boiled off to simple tricks to amuse a crowd, akin to using a Brougham to pull firewood. It’s a sad fact that I must keep up the pretence of mysticism and mummery to display a purer science that would be better suited to lecture halls and universities. But I have done my best to keep the charlatanism to a minimum. No bloody crystal balls I said to the manager when he hired me. I ain’t no stick and rag show. But that’s all people want though. Bloody crystal balls and tarot cards. And I don’t do no dukkering neither, I said. If people want their palms read then they can bugger off to any old fairground come the summer months.”

“Then you are not a real gypsy?” asked Mansfield.

The woman frowned at him, showing some offence. “I most certainly am, mister! I was born to the clans of Kent though my family has its roots in Hungary. I have roamed far a-field in my time, with the caravans of the eastern steppes where the black forests meet snow-capped mountains, and there is no river in England that I have not voyaged down. Gypsy I am, and proud of it too. But it is late and I am tired. You had better tell me what you are here for, so I can see if I may be of any service.”

“Miss Buki,” Lazarus said. “We have come to you on account of my friend Mansfield here. He is very troubled and we wish to call upon your skills as a mesmerist to ascertain the cause of his torment.”

Miss Buki turned to Mansfield and fixed her beady eyes on him. “I’m not a doctor, lad.”

Mansfield cleared his throat with discomfort. “I… uh… ahem, I have troubled sleep. Sometimes I wake up in places without knowing how I got there. I have done terrible things without any memory of doing them. It’s like a part of my personality takes over involuntarily. I feel that there is an evil presence inside of me struggling to break through. I fear that I may not be able to contain it.”

“Really?” said Miss Buki with raised eyebrows. “That is most interesting. I have heard of these so called double-personalities but have never met one with the condition.”

“Then I am not alone?” Mansfield asked, his eyes glimmering with hope. “There are others? It is a condition then, and I am not merely a lunatic!”

“One man’s lunatic is another man’s prophet,” said Miss Buki sagely. “It is often a matter of opinion. But yes, there have been documented cases of individuals displaying more than one personality, sometimes up to three or four, all fighting for control of their soul.”

“Is it possible to communicate with any one of these personalities without the others interfering?” Lazarus asked her. “Like in a séance?”

“A séance?” Miss Buki remarked, the corners of her lips turning up in a smile. “This is a science, sir, not a parlor trick. But you are right in one thing; our understanding of the human mind is akin to our understanding of the cosmos in that we may only peek around the corner and make assumptions on what we may see. Hypnotism can be used to bring one personality to the fore but whether or not the others will stand by idly, I cannot say. Nor can I say with any certainty that hypnotism will work at all.”

“But will you try on Mansfield?”

“Gladly, if only out of my own interest in this rare disease.”

“Mary, would you leave us?” Lazarus asked.

She turned to him in surprise. “Leave? Why?”

“This is a very personal and private matter for Mansfield. He would be embarrassed to reveal so much of himself to you. Please allow Mr. Clumps to accompany you.”

“I am to leave too?” the mechanical asked.

“I wouldn’t want Miss Kelly to be left unattended in such surroundings,” Lazarus told him.

Mary rolled her eyes. “A chaperone? Such a gent. But you do realize what I do for a living?”

Lazarus gave her a pleading look.

“Oh, all right. But I don’t see what the bleedin’ fuss is about. We’ll be just outside waiting for you.”

Once they had gone, Lazarus turned to the gypsy woman. “There is one other thing before we begin, Miss Buki. My friend often takes to raving and displaying violence when his darker nature consumes him. Is there somewhere we may go where he could be restrained?”

She eyed them both carefully. “Is he dangerous?”

“Possibly.”

“Hmm. Come with me.” She led them out of her dressing room and down a set of steps into a gloomy basement room filled with packing crates. “That’s the thing we want in the corner there,” she said, indicating a flat board stood upright between two cases. “You lads bring it out here where we have some space.”

It was heavy, and after a bit of grunting and dragging, they managed to heave the thing into the centre of the room. It had a hefty metal base from which protruded a lever that altered the angle of the board. Miss Buki instructed them to set it to forty-five degrees. Manacles dangled from its corners and a thick leather belt hung loose at the middle. For all the world it looked like a machine of terrifying torture, or perhaps a piece of medical equipment from Bedlam.

“This was used some time ago as part of a conjuror’s act,” explained Miss Buki. “He would ask a member of the audience to chain him up, and then he would wriggle free in under a minute. But don’t worry. Unless your friend here is a master of escape, he shan’t be getting free without our help.”

Mansfield looked acutely uneasy as he stepped up onto the device and Miss Buki fixed the leather belt and manacles on him. Lazarus was far from comfortable himself and admired his friend’s courage and trust in this woman.

Once her willing volunteer was fully secure, the hypnotist stepped back and began her slow, sleek talk, with suggestive references to calm beaches, trickling rivers and all the beautiful and peaceful things in life. Mansfield’s eyelids began to droop as he fell deep into slumber, just as Lazarus had seen the three audience members do upstairs.

“Open your eyes, please,” said Miss Buki, “and tell me whom I have the pleasure of addressing.”

Mansfield slowly opened his eyes, saying nothing, and for an instant, Lazarus feared that the process had not worked. Then the man on the table tried to move and, finding himself restrained, unleashed a barrage of enraged jerks and heaves, yanking at the chains and writhing in the leather corset. The person called Mansfield had totally vanished, leaving only the expression of a demon before them who fixed a terrible stare full of loathing upon Miss Buki.

“Is your name Mansfield” Miss Buki asked and Lazarus silently commended her for retaining her composure in the face of such a caged animal.

“Fuck off, witch!” said the creature in a voice as chilling as icy cold water running over sharp rocks.

“Are you Mansfield?” she repeated.

The man barked a cruel laugh. “I am not, but he is chained to me as I am to him and as both of us are to this infernal gurney! I am Mansfield’s rage, his pain and his anger. I am his fear, his loathing and his hatred!”

“Why have you taken up residence in his body?”

“I have always been there, just as I am in every single person, since the human race crawled from apedom. I am their evil, their malice and their secret desire for all things unclean and degenerate. In a manner of speaking, I am Satan!”