The night sky over London was dark but its streets were aglow with yellow lamplight and teaming with all life. In amongst that life, two of its dead made their way through the streets, houses and yards, not caring for the physical obstructions which hindered the living souls.
Monsieur Vidocq dragged Tanner behind him, clutching the chain between the two metallic hands clasped tightly around Tanner’s wrists. Tanner struggled to get to his feet but each time he did, Monsieur Vidocq picked up his pace. From the alley in Seven Dials, he took him down Shaftesbury Avenue, then along Piccadilly.
‘What do you want with me?’ screamed Tanner.
‘A Rogue ghost consorting with a Talker is one thing,’ said Monsieur Vidocq. ‘Having him commit murder is quite another.’
‘If you were listening to all that then you’ll have heard that I didn’t know what he was doing. I never told him to kill no one.’
‘Then what exactly were you doing?’
‘I was trying to get ghosts into the infected houses.’
‘And why would a Rogue ghost want to do that?’
‘The Black Rot,’ said Tanner. ‘We’ve got to stop the Black Rot.’
‘La Pourriture Noire,’ said Monsieur Vidocq. ‘What concern is this of you?’
‘We were investigating it,’ replied Tanner.
‘We?’
‘Lapsewood and me.’
‘Ah.’ Monsieur Vidocq stopped, giving Tanner enough time to stand. ‘Lapsewood.’
‘Yeah, he’s one of your Bureau lot, ain’t he? He’ll tell you. I was helping him.’
‘And he told you to enlist the help of this Talker, did he? Most interesting.’
‘Yes, well, no. Not exactly, but—’
‘So you are both implicated in this scandal?’
‘I already told you, I didn’t know—’
Vidocq interrupted him. ‘—that he was killing people. Yes, you said. Unfortunately for you, ignorance is no excuse.’
‘So what you going to do?’ asked Tanner defiantly.
They were standing by the park. At day it would have been as busy as any part of London, but at night without streetlights it was a dead space in the city. The only living souls to venture in at night were those who desired the seclusion its darkness offered. Monsieur Vidocq yanked on the chain, pulling Tanner off his feet and dragging him across the grass.
‘You planning on locking me up or what?’ said Tanner.
‘An arrest requires a great deal of administration. I myself find the whole thing very frustrating. Especially when there are more appropriate methods of dealing with your indiscretions.’
‘What are you on about?’ asked Tanner.
‘You have no idea what you are involved in. You cannot comprehend what you have done. And yet for someone so ignorant you have been the cause of much trouble.’
‘Listen, I didn’t know Jack was killing people,’ protested Tanner.
‘This is not about the Talker,’ said Monsieur Vidocq.
‘What then?’
‘The anomalies.’
‘The what?’
‘Les chiens, the hounds. You fed them to the houses.’
‘I was using them to test if it was safe.’
‘Safe?’ Monsieur Vidocq laughed. ‘Not a word I would use. The church in Shadwell had been infected so long it had drawn something terrible from the Void; a formless thing of unimaginable horror, a different kind of darkness . . . what some might call a demon.’
Deeper into the darkness, Monsieur Vidocq dragged him.
‘A demon?’ said Tanner.
‘Oui, a demon. This thing was trapped within the confines of the church. With no body it wore the building as its clothes. Even the living could sense its presence and yet, imprisoned as it was, it could do no harm. Not until you found a solution of how to release it.’
‘A solution?’
‘It was a formless demon in search of a body. And you provided it with one. You gave it the body of a hound.’
‘Lil’ Mags ran in,’ protested Tanner. ‘I tried to stop her.’
‘Ah, you English do so love your animals.’ Monsieur Vidocq had slowed down as they approached a large bush. The sounds of the city were distant and dreamlike. If not for the shimmer of the streetlamps, Tanner could have believed they were standing in the middle of the countryside. He spotted something shift in the darkness, ghost-silent and blacker than night.
‘This demon took the hound’s form and escaped the church,’ said Monsieur Vidocq. ‘The damage you have done is . . . what’s the word? Oh yes, admirable.’
‘What does it want?’ asked Tanner, struggling to free himself from the cuffs, fearful of the approaching creature.
‘It wants your soul,’ said Vidocq. ‘This thing you created feeds on the souls of ghosts. With each one it devours it grows larger.’
‘I didn’t mean any of this to happen. We were trying to help. We were just using the hounds to check the houses were safe. We’re on the same side. We have to stop it.’
‘Stop it? Non.’ Vidocq shook his head. ‘Feed it, Monsieur Tanner. We must feed it. And the same side? I don’t think so. You see, your fate is to be devoured by the creature you created. It is neat, is it not?’
Vidocq swung the chain and hurled Tanner into the darkness. He stumbled and tripped and felt something land on top of him. It held him down.
‘Au revoir,’ said Monsieur Vidocq.
The creature loomed over Tanner. Its cavernous mouth drooled. He could see its black teeth and eyes like shadows in the darkness. It lowered its huge head and moved in for the kill.
Pinned to the ground, Tanner stared into the jaws of despair. Regret flooded his mind. He wished he had never turned his back on the Unseen Door. There was no chance of tranquillity now. This creature would tear him apart and feed on his soul.
A cold breeze blew through the park, but neither ghost nor hound felt its chill.
‘Go on, then,’ shouted Tanner. ‘You might as well get it over and done with.’
The hound did not move. Its warm breath stank of devoured souls. Its black eyes were alive with death.
‘I said you might as well be done with me,’ said Tanner.
The hound growled. Tanner shut his eyes and waited.
And waited.
When he opened them again the beast had moved. It edged back, releasing him from its grip. Tanner scrambled to his feet. His instinct was to turn to Ether Dust and go but the handcuffs prevented him. The hound stared at him. He stared back and realised he knew those eyes.
‘Lil’ Mags?’ he whispered. ‘Is that you?’
The hound lowered its huge head and stepped forward. Tanner reached up and, ever so cautiously, tickled it under its chin. It pushed its chin into his hand.
‘Lil’ Mags,’ Tanner exclaimed. ‘It is you.’
He reached up to stroke her again but the hound snarled. He raised his hands to protect himself and it snapped its jaws shut on the chain between the handcuffs, breaking straight through, releasing Tanner. The handcuffs and chain fell to the ground.
‘Good girl, Lil’ Mags,’ said Tanner.
The hound threw its head back and howled, then turned and ran, its black shape moving towards the shimmering lights of Piccadilly. Understanding what he had to do, Tanner took chase.