Page 56 of Across Space and Time

Stretched out on the table, leaning over it was what looked like it might have been a man. But his skin had stretched and expanded until he looked like an oversized caterpillar, with rolls of fat, and spindly limbs that seemed only designed to grab the plates and lift them to his gaping maw. His mouth was so wide that Hugh could have easily put his head inside of it, and saliva dripped onto the table in great puddles. The creature picked up a nearby platter that held a whole roasted pig, surrounded by vegetables, and an apple in its mouth. It tipped the plate upward, and the entire contents, pig and all, slid whole into its mouth. It began to chew, and there was the most horrific sound of crunching bone that Hugh had ever heard. Then the creature swallowed, the bulge big enough to see it travel down his throat, though the blob of flesh had no discernable neck. Hugh thought he was about to be sick. Jack glanced at him, then quickly led him away from the room. “Come, boy,” he said, and Hugh was too grateful to move away from the fleshy mass of human gluttony to care.

Once they were out of earshot, Hugh gagged, sucking in deep breaths to try to settle his stomach and clear his head. Jack frowned. “Are you all right?”

Hugh nodded, spitting out a mouthful bile and swiping at his lips. “Yes. It is not even that terrible compared to what we have seen.”

“That doesn’t mean it is not disgusting,” Jack replied as they turned down another archway. “Such a brazen display of gluttonous excess. And especially when others are starving.”

The scent of blood and viscera suddenly filled Hugh’s nose as they walked, and he gagged again, clapping his hand to mouth. Jack’s nose wrinkled in disgust as well. “Well, that doesn’t seem good.”

Hugh did not want to know. After what he had seen done to Christopher, Toby, and Joseph, he knew that whatever was down that next hallway was likely horrific. But he had to see. He had to know what sort of monsters they were dealing with, what they were capable of. They stepped into a dimly lit hallway.

It was as if they had sudden broken a bubble of some sort; for as soon as they passed beyond the stone archway, the screaming hit them. Not just one person, but several voices, babbling, pleading, screaming, wailing. Hugh wondered for a moment if he had passed into Hell. The smell of blood only got worse. Jack frowned. “Wait here.”

“No,” Hugh replied. “I’m coming with you.”

Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but he just nodded, starting down the hall to one of the lit offshoot archways. Hugh followed after him, then almost tripped over himself as his bare feet landed in something warm and sticky. He looked down to see that the stone floor was covered in puddles of blood. Fresh blood, bright and thick. And not only blood. Bits of flesh, bone, clumps of hair, other fluids. Hugh jerked back. Jack glanced down, then immediately swept Hugh up into his arms to hold him bride-style. “I’ve got you.”

Hugh wanted to protest that he could walk and did not need to be carried like a baby, but he realized that walking through all of the carnage with bare feet would be horrifying, so he just nodded and let Jack carry him. Jack at least had boots on.

Jack reached the archway, stepping into it. Inside, he recognized the couple he had walked into the theatre with, though only by their masks. Their bodies had morphed into something entirely different. The man was bandy-legged and covered with a layer of dark hair, his head a cross between a wolf and a bear. The woman had metamorphosed into a sort of bird-like creature with a razor-sharp beak. Both of them were covered in blood and gore, though from what Jack could tell, it was not theirs.

Between them was a long, wooden table, similar to the ones in the morgue at the back of Scotland Yard. And while there was a body upon it, it was not yet a corpse. It was that of a nude woman, her wrists and ankles shackled to the table so she could not get off of it. Jack and Hugh both watched in horror as the woman turned her head toward them. Hugh almost screamed. The skin on the woman’s face had been peeled off of her, leaving the nerves and muscles beneath the skin exposed, her dark eyeballs bulging, her lips pulled away to expose her teeth like a grinning skull.

Jack’s hand landed on Hugh’s cheek and suddenly turned his head, pressing Hugh’s face into his chest. Hugh tried to turn his head out, but Jack held him there as he heard the wolf-faced man say, “Ah, Jack. Would you care to join us?”

Jack’s voice was smooth and rumbled against Hugh’s cheek as he replied, “Oh, not at the moment, just getting the line of the land, is that the correct phrase? It certainly seems like you two have been rather busy.”

The woman let out a cackling sound that made Hugh’s bones feel like they were being scraped together. “Indeed. We’ll go through this whole lot before the end of the night.”

Jack’s eyes followed the direction the woman pointed. Against the back wall was a large cage that looked like it could hold about a dozen people, though now there were only five inside of it, of various ages and genders. All of them were staring in horror at the woman strapped to the table, no doubt wondering what their own fate would be at the hands of these monsters.

“Let me see,” Hugh whispered against Jack’s chest.

Jack hesitated, then carefully stepped to the side so his body blocked most of what was happening on the table. He let go of Hugh’s cheek for him to turn his head toward the cage.

Hugh didn’t recognize any of the faces from the champagne room. All of them were gaunt, nearly skeletal, most of them with long, stringy hair. Hugh had seen people like this before; he often came upon them in his nightly patrols. The bottom of the barrel poor of London. The orphans, the homeless, the addicts, the runaways. Those who had not found work in one of the many brothels and instead lived on the street, scrounging through trash bins and begging for the smallest scrap of food or warm clothing. The forgotten ones, the ones who had no one to protect them. Here they were, tied like sheep for slaughter. He recalled when several of the regulars he usually saw had disappeared from his route the last few months. Were they victims of this savage group, snatched up and brought here to be tortured and murdered? How many of them had there been? It was impossible to account for every homeless person on London’s streets.

He wanted to run to them, to open the cage doors and set them free. But Jack’s arms were tight around him, and he knew he couldn’t. If he acted out, there was nothing stopping the monsters from ripping him apart as well. He couldn’t ask Jack to defend him without knowing the capabilities of the monsters. If they caused a ruckus, perhaps the other monsters would come to investigate, and Hugh did not feel like facing down nearly a dozen transformed creatures who all had a penchant for violence.

Jack turned, and Hugh was met with another horrific sight; the bodies of what must have been the earlier victims of this couple. It was a mess of limbs and blood and intestines in a sort of pyramid-like shape in the corner, the odd arm or foot sticking out like a battlement. There were little pieces scattered around the pile too. Fingers and toes, bits of scalp with hair still attached to them. Here and there, he could see a glassy, accusatory eye peeking at him from beneath the pile of gore. Why did you not stop them? How could you let them get away with doing this?

Jack grabbed Hugh’s head and pressed it again into his chest, crooning soft noises and petting his head like he was a frightened dog. A wild scream came from the woman on the table, and Hugh didn’t dare lift his head to look and see what was being done to her. “Jack, please,” he pleaded softly, hoping that the spectre would hear and understand.

Jack started into motion, and Hugh felt the breeze move over him as Jack exited the area, slipping a little in the obstacle course of blood and other things that led back through the chamber of horrors. Jack moved quickly, and, only moments later, the screams of the dying were no longer audible.

Jack slumped against the wall of one of the arches as he held Hugh close. “These people are monsters, literally and figuratively. How long they have been doing this, do you think?”

“I have no idea. But I’ve seen enough to know that they need to be stopped,” Hugh said firmly, though he could hear his voice shaking a little.

“I agree,” Jack replied. “But how do we do it?”

Without knowing their identities, bringing charges against them would be difficult, and it would be slow. And if they were the upper echelon of society, it was possible that they could use their money and power to avoid charges and conviction anyway. Hugh didn’t like the idea of resorting to vigilante justice, but people were being tortured and killed only yards away.

“Could you use your fire on them?” Hugh asked.

Jack frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps. But I can exhaust its use very quickly. And if the fire spreads, there will doubtless be innocent people caught in the blaze.”

Hugh thought about little Morris, looking so terrified as he held Hugh’s hand, and Anthony, who had put so much faith in him. He didn’t want the boys to suffer at the hands of these vile creatures, but that didn’t mean he wanted to kill them to avoid it either. He had a sudden thought. “If both the Duke and his son are here, that means his estate might be unguarded. If we can destroy the Tree, these people won’t be able to transform again, right?” It wouldn’t stop the horrors currently going on, but it might prevent future ones from being committed.

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