I guessed that Snetton had called his forces back, perhaps because he was far more eager to open the portal than to waste time pursuing a mere onlooker. After all, should he succeed in opening that portal, thus permitting countless demons and horrors to pass into our world, I had no doubt there would be no more onlookers.
I was deeply troubled by what I had seen, but also relieved I was not to be hunted down and killed just yet. Taking up the bags, I slung them over my shoulder and hurried along the tunnel towards the exit as fast as my legs would carry me.
– — Ω — –
I reached the empty station and hurried up the steps, the knapsacks like lead weights across my shoulders. I did not think I had ever run so far nor so fast, and despite the chill night air I was panting like a dog on a hot summer day.
Once in the street I turned for the warehouse, my intention being to meet Roberta and — hopefully! — the professor. I would reveal the horrors I had witnessed below, and then the professor would build a contraption to seal the rift while Roberta and I dealt with Edgar and Lord Snetton.
I knew this was a gross oversimplification, and despite the severity of the situation a wry smile came to my lips. Why, one might as well reattach a severed leg with a tot of brandy and a handful of good wishes! Then I recalled the poor unfortunate victim of Edgar's knife, and my smile slipped. Suddenly I saw an alternative ending, one in which the professor was already dead, and I would be forced to watch as Roberta was tied to the wooden bench, before her throat was slit from ear to ear right before my very eyes.
By the time I reached the warehouse, my mood was dark indeed. It grew even more so as I stumbled around the darkened interior, calling Roberta's name as loudly as I dared. No matter how much I called, there was no reply. I found the spot where the professor had lain, and to my relief he was not there. This gave me great hope, for I could not imagine Roberta carrying him into the streets. Therefore, he must have been revived!
I turned for the exit and made my way into the road. The lightning and thunder had long since ceased, but a light rain was falling and the glow from the streetlamps barely lit the wet pavement. There was not a soul to be seen, which was not surprising as the storm had been a powerful one. In addition, many were no doubt cowering in their homes after witnessing spirits drifting through the very streets of the city. Some might have seen their loved ones having the life force torn from their bodies, as I had witnessed with Roberta and the professor.
Fortunately, there was no sign of any further spirits, and I surmised they were all circling Lord Snetton's half-opened portal beneath the streets of London. So, I turned up my collar, hunched my shoulders beneath the weight of the haversacks, and started walking in the direction of the professor's house.
I kept up a fast pace, for I had important news to share and I knew that portal would open wider and wider the more victims Edgar sacrificed. Would it take two lives to open that hellish gateway? Three? Half a dozen? I did not know, but the scar-faced man was a monster, killing without hesitation, and I had no doubt he would slaughter innocents until the required outcome was achieved.
It took me a good twenty minutes, but finally I turned into the professor's road. Even as I did so, I saw Roberta and her father passing through the iron gate in front of the house. Roberta was supporting the professor, who seemed barely conscious, and I redoubled my pace to meet them.
"Where have you been?" demanded Roberta, giving me an angry look. "You were supposed to collect the things and catch me up!"
"I'm sorry, but the horrors I witnessed—"
"Never mind that now. We must get him inside."
The professor murmured something, and I bent closer. "What is it, sir?"
"Bran…dy," muttered the professor.
"He's been saying the same thing these past ten minutes," said Roberta. "I swear his blood must be swimming in it."
At the mention of blood I recalled Edgar's ruthless killing, and I knew there was a matter I had to raise with some urgency. "Lord Snetton is behind this," I said. "I witnessed it with my own eyes."
Roberta was silent, her face drawn.
"He had Edgar with him," I continued. "They're opening a portal in the tunnels, and they sacrificed a victim before my very eyes. As the poor soul's life was extinguished, the portal opened wider. I—I think, if they kill enough…"
By now we had reached the front door, which opened before us. Mrs Fairacre saw the state of the professor and immediately took charge. "What have you done to the poor fellow now?" she cried, as she helped him to the sitting room. "And what is that awful smell of fish?"
Roberta and I followed but she promptly ushered us out again, flapping her hands at us. "Leave him be! Go on, out with you!"
And then she closed the door in our startled faces, shutting us out.
"Will your father be all right?" I asked Roberta.
"He is stronger than he looks," she said stoutly.
Her words were encouraging, but I noticed she had not answered my question. Then she led me to the dining room, where I leaned the haversacks against the wall and sank gratefully onto a chair.
Roberta took a seat beside me, looking into my eyes. "Tell me what you saw. Leave nothing out."
I did as she asked, quickly recounting the hellish scenes I had witnessed. She winced when I recounted Edgar's
