Spirits from Beyond (4 page)

“Good,” said Happy. “Anyone the Druids worshipped is not someone you’d want to meet in a dark catacomb. You are sure he’s dead?”

“Oh quite definitely,” said Kim. “I’ve seen the body. That’s why we’re going down into the Undertowen—to talk with him.”

They all looked at her.

“Are you saying,” Happy said carefully, “that somewhere down there, is the ghost of an old god?”

“Ghost of an old monster, anyway,” Kim said cheerfully. “Surrounded, of course, by all kinds of other dead things of an equally upsetting and dangerous nature.”

“Including a whole army of dead Druids, perchance?” said Melody.

“Exactly!” said Kim.

“I’m going home,” said Happy. “Right now. Really. Watch me.”

“I thought you wanted to fight for me?” said Kim.

“Well, yes, but,” said Happy.

“And there you have his entire character, in a nutshell,” said Melody.

“Come along, children,” said JC. “Lovely night for a stroll in the Undertowen. We are going down!”

“Of course we are,” said Melody.

And then she broke off, as Happy produced a pill bottle from one of his jacket pockets. He studied the handwritten label carefully, put the bottle away again, and fished out another. He nodded over the label, undid the screw cap, and knocked back two of the pills quickly, swallowing hard. Melody stared at him, openly shocked.

“Happy!” she said finally. “You swore you didn’t need those any more . . . You promised me you’d thrown them all away!”

“I lied,” said Happy, meeting her angry gaze unflinchingly. “I do that sometimes. When necessary. To keep the peace.”

“You don’t need pills any more!” Melody said fiercely. “You’ve got me!”

“You make me feel safe,” said Happy. “But you can’t make me feel brave. To go down into a place like this takes more of me than I’ve got.”

Melody turned to JC. “Do Something! Say something!”

“He’s a grown man,” said JC. “He can make his own decisions. He knows what he needs better than you or I.”

“Sorry, Melody,” said Happy. “But love can only take me so far. After that, it takes chemical courage to push me over the edge.”

His eyes were already glassy, and his smile was a lot wider than they were used to seeing of late. Melody glared at him coldly.

“We will talk about this later.”

“If there is a later,” said Happy. He went right up to the edge of the great chasm and looked down the long steps into the dark. “Ooh . . . You’re right, Kim. They really aren’t steps at all, are they?”

“What are you Seeing down there, Happy, that the rest of us aren’t?” said JC. And if he was as surprised and shocked as Melody at Happy’s return to a chemical crutch, he kept it out of his voice. He had a job to do.

“Let’s just say . . . When I say
It’s quiet, too quiet
, that means something,” said Happy. “In this case . . . it means Something’s down there waiting for us. And not in a good way. Let’s go say hello!”

He went clattering quickly down the stone steps, taking them two at a time, and the others had no choice but to hurry down after him.

* * *

The stone steps felt real enough, solid enough, under JC’s feet as he took over the lead from Happy. On the grounds that if you were heading into danger, the one leading the way should have at least some of his survival instincts still working. The small group moved steadily down into the depths, surrounded by a small pool of moon-pale light with no obvious source. JC couldn’t help noticing that none of their feet made any noise at all on the apparently solid stone steps. Without any landmarks, it was hard to get any real sense of descent, or time passing, until the stairway suddenly stopped without warning, and they were Somewhere Else.

The catacombs stretched away before them: ancient stone galleries, with corridors and passageways, endlessly turning and branching. Rough stone arches, all of them full of shadows and darkness. Dusty openings and endless grey avenues led off in every direction. Old stone, without markings or character, constructed to serve a purpose and a function, not decoration. The silence was complete, hanging heavily over everything. JC looked at Melody, who was hanging on to her machine-pistol like a security blanket. She actually jumped slightly when he turned to her.

“Yes! What? I don’t see anything!”

“I was wondering. How big is London Undertowen supposed to be?”

“How big is London?” said Melody. “They say you can find everything that London’s lost down in the Undertowen. Lost people, lost secrets, lost civilisations.”

“Albino alligators!” Happy said brightly, smiling about him beatifically. “Grown from small pets flushed down toilets when they got too big.”

“First, that’s an urban myth,” said Melody. “And second, it’s an entirely American urban myth. Alligators as pets never caught on over here because we are a sane people.”

But Happy had already stopped listening to her. He’d spotted thick mats of blue moss growing over most of a nearby wall. In fact, there were heavy splashes of the stuff all over the place. It looked moist, and springy; and JC thought the moss might even be breathing, rising and falling very slowly. Happy darted forward to study the nearest patch of blue moss, pushing his face right into it.

“I know what this is!” he said loudly. “I’ve read about it, in the kinds of magazines you never find in supermarkets . . . Supposedly, whoever eats or smokes this stuff is supposed to receive visions of Heaven and Hell. And a chance to have actual conversations with the inhabitants of both places.”

“Are you intending to try it out?” said Melody, pointedly.

“No,” said Happy, backing away reluctantly. “I have enough problems as it is. Besides, you should never talk to the dead. You can’t trust anything they say. They always have their own agenda.” He stopped and looked back at Kim. “No offence.”

“Dear Happy,” said Kim. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” Happy said earnestly. And then his head came up suddenly, and he turned his back on the blue moss to stare out into the surrounding gloom. “Heads up, people! Company’s coming!”

JC looked quickly about him. The pale moonlight that fell from nowhere stretched away in all directions but didn’t reveal much.

“What’s coming?” he said. “And from which direction?”

“From everywhere,” said Kim. She was glowing more brightly now, her face eager and intent. “Hold your ground, guys. And don’t do anything to draw their attention.”

Melody pulled Happy over to stand at her side and held her machine-pistol at the ready. JC stood beside Kim, who didn’t even look at him. Someone was coming, or Something; JC could feel it, like a pressure on his skin. Something unnatural, from out of the dark.

They came from every direction at once, emerging from the tall arches or appearing suddenly out of narrow stone corridors, glowing faintly like poisoned candles. Walking in silence, drifting along as though blown by an unfelt wind, staring straight ahead and saying nothing. Walking the low road, the paths of the dead, driven by needs and purposes that only the unliving could understand. Ghosts of dead soldiers, in uniforms from armies across the ages; deserters from every force that ever marched through the streets of London. Ghosts of plague victims, dumped in mass graves and unmarked burial pits. Still huddled together for comfort, even in death. The marks of the plagues that killed them still vivid on their faces, like deadly kisses. Ghosts of small children, worked to death in sweat-shop businesses, or abandoned to die cold and alone, in the streets and back alley-ways where civilised people never went.

All the ghosts London doesn’t want to remember.

And all the Ghost Finders could do was stand very still and watch the dead file past, disappearing back into the dark. The ghosts didn’t even look at them. When the last of them was finally gone, JC turned almost angrily to Kim.

“There must be something we can do to help.”

“You can’t,” said Kim.

“But there were children!” said JC. “There shouldn’t be children in a place like this. I won’t stand for it!”

“London is a city built on the dead,” said Kim. “You know that, JC. You’d need an army of exorcists, working in shifts for years, to wipe London clean of its past. And even then, a lot of those ghosts would almost certainly come back again. Because they’ve nowhere else to go, or because they’re not ready to let go. Ghosts are all about unfinished business, and this many ghosts, together . . . They have a spiritual weight, a spectral impact on their surroundings, that is way beyond our understanding. And a purpose beyond our comprehension.”

“But . . . there were children,” said JC. “That’s not right. We can’t just leave them down here, in the dark.”

“I love it that you care,” said Kim. “And it’s sweet that you feel the need to Do Something . . . but you can’t help those who don’t want to be helped.” She looked briefly at Happy, then stared out into the dark again. “We have to keep moving, JC. There are far more dangerous things in the catacombs than ghosts.”

“Could any of them help us?” said Happy. “With whatever it is we’re here to fight? I need information, and clarification, and possibly a very big stick with nails sticking out of it.”

“This isn’t like you, Happy,” said JC. “It’s an improvement, but it isn’t like you.”

“There is thunder and lightning in my veins,” said Happy. “And a lion growling in my heart. Point me at something, before it wears off.”

* * *

Kim led the way, into the dark heart of the catacombs. The stone passageways radiated out before them, with doors and rounded openings and high stone arches leading off in every direction. They all seemed extremely real and solid, but JC wasn’t entirely convinced. He trailed his fingertips through the thick dust covering the walls, and rubbed the stuff between his fingertips. More dust rose with every footstep they took though it took its own sweet time about falling back down again. Couldn’t get much more real than dust . . . JC peered over his sunglasses, now and again, to check out his surroundings with his altered eyes, but it all looked exactly the same. The catacombs were certainly real enough to contain and guide him and his team.

At least he could hear his footsteps now, even if they didn’t seem to echo, along with Happy’s and Melody’s. Kim made no sound at all as she moved, even when her bare feet did seem to make contact with the floor. And she didn’t leave trails in the dust, like the others. JC kept a careful eye on the trail they left in case they needed to get the hell out in a hurry.

“The air down here smells bad,” said Melody, after a while. “Dry, and sour . . .”

“We’re a long way from the surface,” said Kim. “And I hate to think what else here has been breathing this air before us.”

“Oh, gross,” said Happy.

“Wish I still had my scanner,” Melody grumbled. “I’ll bet the carbon-monoxide levels are appalling.”

“Is it only me?” said Happy. “Or can anyone else smell blood?”

“We’re entering the oldest part of the catacombs now,” said Kim. “Built centuries before the Romans even thought of invading Britain.”

“Who by?” said JC.

“Good question!” said Kim. “I’m not sure there’s anyone still alive, or dead, or in between, that could tell you. We’re passing out of history and into legend. Into the place of myths and madness. I can say these are Druid things. Their subterranean galleries. Miles and miles of them . . .”

“The Druids were supposed to be all about the Nature,” said Happy. “Why would they bury themselves away down here?”

“To do the things their triple goddess wouldn’t approve of,” said Kim. “And given some of the things they got up to in the open, in the forests . . .”

“This isn’t just a catacomb,” JC said slowly. “This is a maze . . . Built, perhaps, to keep Something in . . .”

“Or to keep Something out,” said Kim.

JC looked at her thoughtfully. “What is this place a home for, now?”

“The dead, mostly,” said Kim. “Those not departed enough.”

“Depends on whom you talk to,” Melody said sternly. “There are sites on the Net . . .”

“And you’ve argued with most of them,” said Happy.

“I don’t necessarily believe everything I hear,” said Melody, ignoring Happy. “But there are some fascinating stories out there, concerning what lives or perhaps more properly speaking exists, down here in the Undertowen.”

“I know I’m going to regret saying this,” said JC. “But such as . . . ?”

“Some say . . . the results of scientific experiments, run wild, having broken out of very secret laboratories,” said Melody. “Or, the abandoned offspring of Snake Deities and Alien Greys. Refugees from the Nightside, hiding out until the pursuit goes cold. The last surviving remnants of ancient races and species long thought extinct in the world above. The lost and the strayed, the forgotten and the damned.”

“Happy’s right,” said JC. “You will believe absolutely anything.”

Melody brandished her machine-pistol angrily. “At least I’m prepared!”

“You really think a gun is going to help you down here, in the place of the dead?” said Kim, not unkindly.

“Couldn’t hurt,” said Melody.

JC looked at Kim. “What, exactly, are we going to be facing?”

“The ghost of a dead god and what remains of his court,” said Kim. “But don’t press me for details. The Flesh Undying has been meddling here. There are rumours, in certain places, that these days the corridors are full of his creatures. The weaponised dead . . .”

Happy leaned in close beside JC. “Remind me again why we wanted her back?”

* * *

The Ghost Finders walked on through the stone galleries, which slowly and subtly changed their shape and nature until the group realised they were walking through a dead grey forest, made up of twisted and distorted trees, looming above them, made of stone. Branches protruded stiffly, with no leaves anywhere. Mottled tree-trunks thrust directly up out of the grey stone floor, with no sign of roots. The stone trees were packed close together, with only a narrow, twisting trail to lead the Ghost Finders on. Happy leaned in close for a good look at one of the grey trees; and then never did that again.

“Fossilised trees?” said Melody, after a while. “How is that even possible? I mean, how old would trees have to be, before . . .”