Lapsewood had grown increasingly frustrated looking for Tanner. On and on, through street and alleyway, Lapsewood searched, his body turned to Ether Dust so he could cover more ground. Eventually above a steeple in Aldwych he spotted a cloud of black smoke hanging in the air. He watched it as it suddenly swooped down to the street. The hell hound. To get close would be to risk it picking up on his scent, so Lapsewood kept his distance. He followed it to a house in a courtyard off Fleet Street. Lapsewood materialised and looked up at the building. He remembered it from the list. It had been the first infected house he and Tanner had found.
Lapsewood thought of the Marquis and wondered what words of encouragement he would have conjured up for this moment. Faced with the possibility of stepping into an infected house he would deliver a speech about freedom and sacrifice. He thought of poor old Grunt, lying in the gutter, wallowing in self-pity, drunk on spirit ale. He thought of Alice and Nell and Tanner. He thought about all the trusting spirit dogs they had sent into houses. He took a deep breath and entered Aysgarth House.
Stepping through the solid bricks into the hallway he found, not the hell hound, but Monsieur Vidocq and the ghost of a young ragged girl, suspended in the air, looking utterly petrified. In front of her stood a priest, who turned as he entered and sniffed. ‘I smell you,’ he muttered. ‘I can smell your presence.’
‘Your senses do not betray you, Reverend Fallowfield,’ said Monsieur Vidocq. ‘A second demon is amongst us.’
With the girl held by one of his straining hands, the priest moved his other towards Lapsewood, who felt his arms pressed down against the side of his body as though they were bound by unwielding rope. Reverend Fallowfield squeezed his hands and Lapsewood felt as if they were crushing his windpipe.
‘Don’t . . . do . . . this,’ he gasped.
From another room he could hear two voices crying to be freed. One was male, the other female.
Monsieur Vidocq laughed. ‘You think you can tell me, Monsieur Eugène Vidocq, the world’s greatest detective, what I should or should not do?’
‘Colonel Penhaligan is using you,’ Lapsewood said.
‘But of course,’ replied the French ghost. ‘He is employing my talents. Who else but Monsieur Vidocq would have found this priest? Who else could have persuaded him to do this necessary work, then provided him with the list with which he could do so? None but I.’
‘What you’re doing is illegal,’ said Lapsewood.
‘What poisonous lies does this demon spit?’ demanded Reverend Fallowfield. ‘The only law I follow is that of God himself.’
‘That is right,’ said Monsieur Vidocq. ‘We are doing what is right.’
‘Allowing the hell hound to kill Rogue ghosts?’ exclaimed Lapsewood. ‘You can’t call that right.’
Monsieur Vidocq shrugged. ‘It was you and your friend Tanner who created the beast,’ he said. ‘Fitting, then, is it not, that it has already devoured your friend’s soul.’
‘Tanner’s gone?’
‘The hound eats the scraps left over from life,’ said Monsieur Vidocq. ‘The hound services the city and keeps it free from unwanted pests like you.’
Monsieur Vidocq turned to Ether Dust and swept across the room, rematerialising behind Lapsewood.
‘Behold, the hell hound,’ he whispered in his ear.
From the opposite wall appeared a huge dark head, with a long pointed nose. It was as silent as the night and its black eyes were fixed on Lapsewood.
‘What new devil approaches?’ asked Reverend Fallowfield, the fear visible in his eyes and audible in his quavering voice.
‘This foul creature will help you destroy every wretched unwanted soul in this city,’ said Monsieur Vidocq.
Held by Reverend Fallowfield, Lapsewood was unable to move. Slowly the hound approached until it wrapped its smoke-like limbs around him and loomed over him. He struggled hopelessly. The hound raised its head and let out a strange howl. Lapsewood heard the sound of a hundred splintered souls screaming in eternal agony. He shut his eyes, knowing that soon he would join these fragments. The demon hound edged forward, tightening around him. Squeezing. Crushing. Its long tongue protruded from its black jaws in anticipation.
Lapsewood shut his eyes.
Then, out of the darkness, he heard a voice speaking three words.
‘Lil’ Mags, no,’ it said.
‘Tanner?’ said Lapsewood, believing the voice to have come from within the creature itself.
‘Not him, Lil’ Mags. Not him,’ said Tanner.
Lapsewood felt the hell hound release him. The blackness subsided, and he slumped to the ground. When he stood again he could see the creature cowering in the corner with Tanner standing in front of him. ‘Good girl, Lil’ Mags,’ he said. ‘Good girl.’
‘You?’ exclaimed Monsieur Vidocq angrily.
‘Thank you, Tanner,’ said Lapsewood.
‘You’re welcome, Words,’ said Tanner.
‘But how?’
Tanner grinned. ‘When this thing took hold of Lil’ Mags’ body it also took some of her soul,’ he said. ‘And Lil’ Mags, like all dogs, has a good soul. I’ve been hunting her since this Frenchie tried to turn me into dogfood in the park. I’ve tried to stop her killing but she grows wilder with every soul she devours. She can’t help it, poor girl.’
‘Ridiculous,’ responded Vidocq. ‘Spirit hounds and anomalies. They do not have souls. Reverend Fallowfield, dispense with these evil spirits in our midst.’
‘I can only exorcise one at a time,’ said the priest.
‘Then get on with it,’ snapped Monsieur Vidocq.
Reverend Fallowfield raised his arms and lifted the weeping girl higher into the air. ‘Forces of the afterworld,’ he cried. ‘Draw near, push open the doors that lie between us and devour this demon.’
‘I’ll now wish you adieu,’ said Monsieur Vidocq, beginning to turn to Ether Dust.
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Tanner. ‘Lil’ Mags. Dinner time.’
The hell hound pounced on Monsieur Vidocq and pinned him down. ‘Get off me, you mutt,’ he cried. ‘I am no Rogue ghost. I am Monsieur Eugène François Vidocq, the great . . .’
The rest of his words were lost in a terrible scream that grew like an orchestral crescendo of agony and rose up from between the demon hound’s black jaws.
The hell hound devoured Monsieur Vidocq in a single bite.
‘Draw near and dispense this lingering spirit,’ cried Reverend Fallowfield, who was too focused on the torture of Emily to notice anything else.
‘Help me!’ yelled Emily.
‘We have to stop him,’ said Lapsewood.
‘Leave it to me,’ said Tanner. Channelling all of his energy, he picked up a vase and hurled it at Reverend Fallowfield. It collided with his shoulder and smashed on the ground, but the reverend barely flinched.
‘Throw something else,’ urged Lapsewood.
‘There is nothing else,’ said Tanner.
From the other side of the door, two voices shouted, ‘Let us out.’
‘The Talker,’ said Tanner. He flew to the door and concentrated on turning the key. However, without Tanner to hold him back, the hell hound was on the move again. It sniffed at Emily’s revolving feet.
‘Get away,’ she screamed.
But the hound opened its mouth and clasped its jaws around her ankles.
‘Do not resist me, foul spirit,’ cried Reverend Fallowfield, feeling the spirit being tugged away from him.
‘No, Lil’ Mags,’ yelled Lapsewood.
The hound’s breath was tinged with the stench of tortured souls.
‘Please,’ screamed Emily.
‘Open the gates that lie between this world and the next and take this demon from us,’ cried Reverend Fallowfield.
Lapsewood looked up at the magnificent chandelier and realised what he had to do. He turned to Ether Dust and flew up.
Tanner finally managed to turn the key all the way. The door was flung open in time for Sam and Clara to witness Reverend Fallowfield laughing insanely. Sam saw with his right eye black cracks appear all around, as though he was tearing holes in the air itself.
‘Be gone, foul spirit. Be gone,’ cried Reverend Fallowfield.
Emily screamed, caught between the jaws of the hell hound and the grip of Reverend Fallowfield. Above them, the huge chandelier rattled. Reverend Fallowfield’s hands shook violently as he yelled, ‘Let this spirit be vanquished forever more.’
An ear-shattering cacophony of agony filled the air as Emily and the hell hound were both torn apart and vanquished into the Void. It was the sound of every half-digested soul inside the hound’s belly being exploded into nothingness.
Silence followed.
Reverend Fallowfield lowered his hands, exhausted. ‘And now for the rest of you,’ he muttered darkly.
The chandelier above his head rattled. There was a creak. He looked up in time to see it come crashing down on his head.
In the doorway, Sam shielded Clara from the shattering glass. When he turned to look again, the reverend was lying flat, underneath a pile of broken glass. Unmoving. He was dead.
With his left eye, Sam could see Reverend Fallowfield’s bloody body under the chandelier. With his right, he saw the reverend’s ghost standing next to him, his transparent skin decorated like a pin cushion with the thousands of glass shards that had crushed him to death. The reverend raised his hand and looked straight through it.
‘I’m a . . . a . . .’ he began.
But it didn’t need to be said.
There came a Knocking.
‘The Unseen Door,’ whispered Reverend Fallowfield, his ghostly eyes full of fear. ‘What lies on the other side?’
‘Hopefully what you want to,’ said Lapsewood, rematerialising next to him.
‘I’m scared,’ said Reverend Fallowfield, turning to face him.
‘The unknown is a scary place,’ replied Lapsewood. ‘But look at your choices.’
The ghost of Reverend Fallowfield nodded and solemnly stepped through the Unseen Door.
Clara, who was clinging onto Sam, looked up at him. ‘Is it over?’ she asked.
‘I think so,’ he replied.
‘Emily’s gone, hasn’t she?’
Sam nodded and held Clara tightly while she wept quietly.
‘Never a dull moment with you around, is there, Words?’ said Tanner.
‘Sorry about Lil’ Mags,’ he replied.
‘It’s better this way. But you know what all this means. If this house’s Resident has gone, one of us is stuck here.’
‘Yes, but which of us?’ asked Lapsewood.
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ replied Tanner.
They looked at the outside wall.
‘Ready?’ said Lapsewood.
‘Always ready,’ replied Tanner.
They both stepped forward. Lapsewood passed straight through while Tanner hit his head on Mrs Tiltman’s tasteful wallpaper.
Lapsewood stepped back inside. He placed a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Tanner. ‘I can think of worse places to be stuck. I knew a ghost who ended up stuck in a lavvy. Imagine that. The rest of eternity surrounded by people doing their business. This will be fine.’