The Undetectables series - The Undead Complex (eBook)
528 Seiten
TITAN BOOKS (Verlag)
978-1-80336-481-0 (ISBN)
Courtney Smyth (they/them) is a chronically ill writer of stories, both long and short, from Dublin, currently living in the West of Ireland. They have had a number of short stories published in Paper Lanterns Literary Journal, and appeared in The Last Five Minutes of a Storm anthology from Sans Press. They have been writing about ghosts, demons and murders since they were ten and have no plans to stop. They can be found yelling about books on Twitter and Instagram @cswritesbooks.
ONE
104 years ago, give or take a day
In all ways but the one that matters most, Heather Larkin was dead. Once again, she is not who the story is about, but it is important to know this.
Heather was dead to the extended Larkin family, who had never forgiven her for engineering her inheritance of Oakpass Manor and the annexed film studio, usurping them in the process. It was not, she believed, her fault that her forged path did not allow for anything less than a charmed existence, and so she became estranged.
She was dead inside, though she pretended she was not. This was easily achieved with a bright smile, some hair pins and an air of cold exclusivity that encouraged others – Apparent and Occult alike – to follow her every move, wanting to touch the light she emitted, but being too afraid to get close at the same time. Not that Heather dealt with those undeserving of closeness. All her relationships were built on a healthy foundation of give and take – where others gave, and she graciously accepted, leaving them open-mouthed like baby birds awaiting a worm. Even that image of desperate social hunger would have Heather recoil in disgust, despite it coming from her very own mind.
And presently, Heather Larkin was dead to the world. The potion – for want of a better description – her doting husband Howard had slipped into her night-time sherry had taken hold. Her breathing was shallow though, crucially, still there, for that was the only way in which Heather was not dead.
So far.
Her husband, as mentioned, was doting – though this was seldom reciprocated – and his reasons for using a potion-by-any-other-name were both acceptable, for she had a headache, and also unfortunate, for Heather had expected to receive a guest that night in the second-best parlour of Oakpass Manor. An interviewee, to be precise; one who had hopes of joining Heather’s Society.
The Society itself was a gift Heather had the pleasure of bestowing on the best of Occult and Apparent society, all for the low, low price of marrying her least ugly and most biddable (third) cousin, capable of taking the title of Lord. The house – for she called it a ‘house’, both to appear somewhat demure and because ‘manor’ implied staffing that Heather was loath to admit she did not have – was as grand as the beliefs she had about the world she inhabited. It was Heather’s world, for the most part, and she held the respect of the most important folk from Wrackton, Oughteron and beyond in her pale, delicate little hands.
Of course, her being dead to the world and dead in all those other ways meant her husband was left unsupervised. So when a knock sounded on the great doors of Oakpass Manor, Howard Larkin began to panic.
‘Early, early… Biscuits, Missy, do you have them?’
The maid he was speaking to, who was not and had not ever been named Missy, obliged nonetheless by pointing at the spread of sandwiches and tea on the great table beyond them. The interviewing chairs were waiting, and Howard’s favourite fountain pen rested on the side table with sheafs of paper that he presumed were the contracts. He had never liked this parlour, and gladly went to meet his guest.
The guest was a woman he’d recognise anywhere, not least because he had a framed film poster in his study sporting a carefully illustrated likeness of her.
‘Hello. Erm. Hello,’ Howard tried, unsure – even after all this time – how to start a Society interview.
‘I’m Delfina Sackville,’ Delfina Sackville said.
‘I know,’ Howard said, at the same time as she added, ‘For now.’
She winked, and Howard smiled at her, unsure what to make of this woman. She had single-handedly launched the family-run Larkin Studios into renown. She was Apparent, he was quite sure; being Apparent himself, he had to look hard to find the signs of Occulture that came easily to other, vastly more magical members of the Society. As she was dressed in mourning colours, he chose to assume she was intimating an impending re-marriage. If he had learned anything from Lady Larkin, it was not to ask questions about private matters.
Not surface-level ones, anyway.
‘A pleasure. So what brings you to—Candles. Hold on, where’s that… Missy? Can you—Never mind, I have it here. Ceremonial candle, we need it to… rationalise the space, I expect,’ he said, not entirely sure both of the wording his wife usually used, or of its intended meaning.
‘Frankincense,’ Delfina said, crossing her legs. Howard did not know what to make of that, either, and looked away.
‘Quite,’ Howard said vaguely. ‘I am to ask you some questions, before I let you into the Appoccult Society. Rather, before we carefully assess you for suitability to join,’ he said, flustered. ‘I trust you are familiar with our admittance requirement?’
Delfina nodded once. ‘A trinket, yes? Something of intrigue to you and your contemporaries.’
‘And in the case of our Apparent members, they must maintain a lifelong connection to Occulture. That connection is at your discretion, but we in the Appoccult Society—’
‘An ingenious name. Your invention?’ Delfina continued without allowing him to respond. ‘Lord Larkin, forgive my forwardness, but I had hoped to meet with Lady Larkin tonight, as I have…’ She paused demurely. ‘An unusual offer to make.’
At this, Howard began to perspire – both because ‘unusual offers’ were very much his wife’s domain, and because the last time he had admitted an individual to the Appoccult Society without her present, it had ended in tears.
Mostly his.
‘Well. Lady Larkin is currently… indisposed. You could come back?’
Delfina rose to her feet, smoothing her skirts. ‘I’m afraid, Lord Larkin, that this is a one-time-only offer.’
This panicked Howard even more, because he had no idea how Heather would respond to this unusual creature before him, or how she would want him to. The last time he had acted rashly, Heather had been forced – under mighty duress – to excommunicate a demon from the Appoccult Society. This demon had created undesirable ripples at meetings; despite his repeated promises of connections and information, the information had seemed increasingly implausible. All had tired of his insistence he knew better than everyone around him, including the vampire Society members. The demon had been on the Ghoul Council, and losing him was a blow the Society – and Howard – had fought to absorb.
Howard was sure that this was an opportunity Heather would freeze him out for losing, and it was slipping through his fingers with every slow step Delfina took towards the parlour door.
He urged Delfina to sit and asked her to explain the offer. Her dark eyes lit up as she reached into her pocket and slid a black stone across the table between them.
‘Not sure of the provenance, but I can promise you it is Occult,’ Delfina said, as Howard held it up. He recognised it instantly as a planchette, but this one felt old, and heavy.
‘It feels haunted,’ Howard said, at the precise second Delfina said, ‘It’s haunted, if that helps.’
He stared at it, rolling the object around in his hands. The Society would assess it, even in the absence of a Ghoul Council member – the tears he had shed over that fiasco really had been proportionate – and decide Delfina’s merits. He was just about to make this clear to his guest when she held up her hand.
‘One-time offer, Lord Larkin. The trinket for me – for it is haunted, I can assure you. The second gift is more unusual, but I think you’ll like it.’
She leaned forward. Her lipstick was very red, he noticed, her teeth very white. She had a way of commanding attention, the way she did on film, that even Howard couldn’t miss. She spoke at length, and when she finished, leaned back and waited.
‘Just to be clear. You’d like the Society to accept… a dollhouse?’
‘A perfect replica,’ she said.
‘Made by, you say, your “dear friend”?’
‘The dearest.’ That smile again, that Howard couldn’t interpret. He supposed women did have their close girlhood friends.
‘And you’d like me to give this bespoke object…’
‘To your youngest child, yes. Or the child most receptive to ownership of such an object. You have, how many children was it again?’
‘Three,’ Howard said absently.
‘Splendid.’
‘So I give one of my girls the dollhouse, and then…?’
Delfina stood again, but with curiosity rather than an I’m leaving finality as she had before. She pressed one hand covered in rings to the terracotta wallpaper.
‘Lord Larkin, would you say you know the history of Oakpass?’
‘I would say so,’ he said, but it was a lie.
‘More history than your own family’s. Hundreds of years back. No matter,’ she said, seeing his face as he battled with the urge to not lie and the desire to appear competent. ‘My dear friend makes dollhouses as gifts. She’s talented beyond measure. Her accuracy, her attention to detail, just…’ She exhaled. ‘Sublime. This would be the finest replica of Oakpass Manor one could ever hope to acquire.’
‘And would your friend need measurements, and that?’ Howard gestured vaguely.
‘We have another friend who has… shall we say, intimate knowledge of Oakpass Manor, so my dear friend would never have to set foot inside.’
‘And who is this other friend? A Society member?’ If Howard had been prone...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 24.9.2024 |
|---|---|
| Reihe/Serie | The Undetectables series |
| Verlagsort | London |
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy |
| Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror ► Horror | |
| Schlagworte | A Dead and Stormy Night • A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking • Ben Aaronovitch • castle hangnail • Cosy Fantasy • dianne wynne jones • False Value • Fantasy Crime • Fantasy murder mystery • Fantasy Mystery • feel good fantasy • gay fantasy • Gay fantasy crime • Gay fantasy mystery • hamster princess • howl’s moving castle • Josiah Bancroft • Just Like Home • legends and lattes • low stakes fantasy • Magic for Liars • moon over soho • Nettle & Bone • nettle and bone • Paladin’s Grace • Paladins Grace • Paladin’s Hope • Paladin’s Strength • Rivers of London • Romantasy • saint of steel • sapphic fantasy • Sapphic fantasy romance • Sarah Gailey • Steffanie Holmes • Tammie Painter • The Hexologists • The House In The Cerulean Sea • The Undead Mr Tenpenny • t. j. klune • t kingfisher • T. Kingfisher • travis baldree • under the whispering door • unnatural magic • Ursula Vernon • What Moves the Dead • whispers under ground |
| ISBN-10 | 1-80336-481-5 / 1803364815 |
| ISBN-13 | 978-1-80336-481-0 / 9781803364810 |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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