Capeworld Comics

Joseph pulled the blanket away and Mr. Carter saw that he was standing before his Gnome theater.

He blinked. The trip through the air didn’t seem long enough to be real. He remember standing outside, waiting for them to put the blanket over his head like a man being led before a firing squad. Then the wind was howling, blowing cold against his body, and then he was here, on solid ground, in Essex.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Joseph asked.

“No. It wasn’t bad at all.” Mr. Carter admitted. “It wasn’t…anything at all, really.”

“We told you so.” Joseph said.

Mr. Carter brushed some moisture off his arm and gazed upwards at the clouds. To think the light sprinkling on his body came from up there, all the way up there…

Matthew turned the knobs on his gaeite candle and his friends followed his lead. Small, tight halos of silvery-white radiance hovered close to their skin. Mr. Carter gasped. This was the second time in his life he saw gaeite candles in action.

The glow was startling–but not as startling as it was the first time.

“Alright, everyone into the theater.” Matthew said.

“Why are we going inside if the haunting hasn’t started?” Mr. Carter asked.

“Because hauntings don’t rightfully end.” Matthew answered. “They just become immaterial. Gaeite is a physical material that can, when you run an electric current through it and conduct it with clear, disciplined thoughts, produce Astral phenomena. This is the opposite of a manes, which is an Astral being that can circumstantially produce physical phenomena.”

Matthew tapped the gaeite column of his candle. It made a delicate, ringing sound, like a bell. ‘This is always a physical column of matter, no matter what, and hauntings are always a cloud of Astral substance, no matter what. We’re going to find the edge of that cloud.”

“Think of it like checking on the ghosts while they’re sleeping.” Joseph explained.

“Oh. Alright. So long as you don’t wake them up, that should be fine.” Mr. Carter said. “So, I trust you can find where the stage is, it’s the big room through the large double doors. I’ll wait out here.”

Joseph gave him a look. “Come with us. We may need you when it starts getting physical, and we’re not going to turn our backs to it to run out here and get you.”

Joseph manipulated the knobs on his candle and his olprt aura expanded enough for a person to share it with him.

Mr. Carter slowly shuffled to Joseph’s side. A large arm folded around his shoulders. “Come along, friend. There’s no safer place to be during a haunting than inside the olprt radiance. It’s to the old magic pentagram what the Neander man is to us.”

Mr. Carter looked down at himself. There in the light was his black thorn again, jutting from his chest.

He knew he couldn’t touch it, but he kept moving his fingers over it, regardless.

Together, the group made their way to the Gnome theater.

Upon noticing the stone gnome above the entrance, Martin stopped and smirked at the little wrinkled man with a pointed hat and long beard.

“Look Joseph, it’s you in miniature!” Martin said.

“I think I may have looked like this as a babe.” Joseph said. “You know, I think that conical hat of his looks rather smart. I think I would look smashing in one, pity no one makes them.”

“They’re called cornuthaum.” Martin said.

“Seriously?”

Martin smiled. “Well, if I was lying to you, you’d never know it…”

“I just want to know if the magic men in the Ror Raas really wear those Merlin-looking things.”

“Of course not. Have you ever seen Dr. Lumen wear one?”

“I don’t see Bob all the time, though. Maybe it’s like a bow tie for the magic men and they only put one on for formal occasions?”

“They do not. Don’t be absurd.”

“Well you’re the one that suggested the hats were real…”

“Excuse me, are you talking about Dr. Robert Lumen?” Mr. Carter asked. “The thaumaturgist?”

Mr. Carter had heard about Dr. Lumen. Everyone had heard about Dr. Lumen. He was the most public of the thaumaturgists, which meant he would occasionally lecture about thaumaturgical and manesological topics to packed auditoriums and streets, but that was, of course, far more than what the others would do.

“Yes.” Joseph pointed at Martin. “Dr. Glass has just revealed to me that thaumaturgists wear pointed hats in the fashion of Mr. Gnome here at parties and social gatherings to honor Jubjub the unicorn. They consider Jubjub a great and enlightened teacher, you see.”

Mr. Carter looked at Martin.

“Unicorns are real?” he asked.

“He’s lying.” Martin said. Please forgive him, Mr. Carter. Dr. Morton does that sometimes. He thinks it’s funny, because he’s old and his sense of humor decayed back when Napoleon took a beating at Waterloo.”

“Dr. Glass…if the Ror Raas does have unicorns, the secret is safe with me, I promise.” Mr. Carter said.

Martin narrowed his eyes at Mr. Carter. “Please don’t be absurd, Mr. Carter. The Ror Raas is an organization consisting of humans, manes, and the great Abramelin.” Martin said. “Those three races, none more.”

“But…are there such things as unicorns?”

Martin ignored the question and pointed to the gnome statue. “I take it the theater was named after the Gnome race of the Dyeus culture, correct?”

“Yes.” Mr. Carter said.

“That’s not actually what they looked like.” Martin said. “But I can understand why you would depict them that way. They’d be confused for modern humans if you depicted them as they were. They’re very much like you and me, physically speaking, so much so that some doubt Dr. Darwin’s theory of common ancestry with apes and believe we arose from Gnomes that stayed on Earth when the rest of the Dyeus left for the Astral.”

“We were aware they looked like men instead of well, little men. But sometimes, you need to give people what they expect.” Mr. Carter said. “Take it from someone in the business of making large groups of people happy. If you’re going to present scenes from Hamlet, for instance, you’re going to have to include “To be, or not to be,” because that’s what Hamlet is to many people.”

Mr. Carter moved past the manesologists. “Excuse me, I’ll get the door.”

Mr. Carter pushed it open.

“You don’t lock your doors?” Joseph asked.

“No need to in Essex. Don’t take this the wrong way, Dr. Morton, but when Blackwall took on London’s populace, it took on London’s problems. People go to Blackwall to make money, legally or otherwise, and well, when they go to Blackwall, they don’t come here.”

“That’s just the truth.” Joseph said. “People have been stabbed in the streets for tins of jellied eels. Blackwall’s a rough city. In fact, our own business has been burgled. Twice.”

“Really?” Mr. Carter asked.

“And that’s not including the assassination attempt.” Martin said.

“The what?”

Joseph chuckled. “Oh, it sounds grim, but it was quite a funny event. Oh, you should have seen their faces when their bullets stopped dead in their tracks!”

“Well…you two are having quite a good reminiscence about an attempt on your lives.” Mr. Carter said.

“Murder is hilarious.” Joseph said. “So long as it’s only attempted murder.”

“You won’t be hearing about the assassination in Illustrated Phantom Stories.” Matthew said. “They’re very adamant that every story they print about us involves a phantom. But they’ll print it in Illustrated Police News, one day, maybe. It’s a rather contentious subject, things might have to be redacted in the telling to protect certain people.”

“Well, if I happen to come across that issue, I’ll take a look…”

“The two burglary stories will be in Illustrated Phantom Stories, the publishers have confirmed that with us, though only one features a ghost.” Joseph said. “But the story that doesn’t have a ghost leads into the one that does. It’s complicated, but it’ll make sense when you read it. It’s also a pretty funny story.”

“I’ll attempt to brush up on Illustrated Phantom Stories’ ghost stories after we take care of my own story.” Mr. Carter said. “Now, follow me, gentlemen.”

Mr. Carter led the way through the door. He was surprised to see how different his theater looked bathed in silvery-white olprt radiance. The light penetrated even the deepest shadows and the imperfections those shadows hid were revealed for all to see.

Mr. Carter ran a finger along a framed illustration of the Globe theater and cringed at the grit he felt.

“Oh, it’s so dirty…” Mr. Carter mumbled. “My apologies, gentlemen!”

“We’ve been in houses more than a century old, don’t you worry about a thing.” Joseph said. “We’ve been in houses where the cobwebs are as thick as blankets.”

“We’re a new theater, though. We shouldn’t be in such a shabby state, I’ll have to get on to the maid about her neglect.”

Martin spied a round glass object affixed to the wall.

“Ah, electric lamps!” Martin said, gesturing to one. “This really is a modern building!”

“Thank you, though I’m skeptical of these things. I prefer gas, but the investors want electric, so we have a mixture, and every day we get more electric lamps.”

“They are kind of funny-looking things, aren’t they?” Joseph said. “I think they look like glass onions.”

“It’s not so much the look of them that bothers me as it is the…well, people say they start fires.”

Joseph shrugged. “Well, I suppose anything that makes heat can make a fire, but if they were really more dangerous than gas, I don’t think they would have caught on.”

“Well, there are other rumors…um, this may sound like an odd question, but…do they have any…interaction with ghosts?”

“Interaction?” Joseph asked.

“Well, I noticed back at your office that you used gas lamps instead of electric lamp, and, well, I’ve heard rumors that electric lamps work similarly to gaeite candles.”

“Ha! Similarly? Yes, I suppose they would be similar– if you connected the filament of an electric lamp to a block of esoteric super-matter mined from pre-human ruins!” Joseph said.

“Mr. Carter, electricity does have the appearance of something mystical and metaphysical.” Matthew said. “Sometimes, it is literally lightning captured in a bottle. But electricity is still a physical phenomena, not an Astral phenomena. Whatever the reason for your haunting, it has nothing to do with the electric lamps in your theater.”

Mr. Carter felt foolish. “I never believed the haunting was because of the lights! I just heard rumors, and those rumors stuck in my mind, nothing more.”

“You need to be careful about rumors, especially when they stick in your head so easily.” Martin said.

Matthew held a hand out. The group stopped.

At the edge of Matthew’s olprt radiance was a gray imperfection flowing like smoke and oozing like water.

Mr. Carter gasped. “What is that? What on Earth is that?”

“What we’ve been looking for.” Matthew said. “But it isn’t actually on Earth, not if you consider Earth as being solely physical reality.”

“The magic men of the Ror Raas sometimes call this an Astral hand.” Joseph explained. “As in, it’s a hand from the Astral, reaching down into our world.”

“So…that’s the ghost?” Mr. Carter asked.

“It sure isn’t a dust bunny.” Joseph said

“These gaeite candles of ours work through principles of displacement.” Matthew explained. “A ghost creates a black silhouette because his physical ectoplasm and Odic energies displace the cloud of olprt. We can increase the strength of our olprt radiance so that weaker traces of ectoplasm and Odic energy don’t appear, or do the opposite so that any trace appears, no matter how faint. That’s what this is, the faintest possible residue of a haunting. And now, we’re going to examine it.”

“I’m surprised the haunting reaches this far out.” Mr. Carter pointed to the door leading to the stage, several feet behind the Astral hand. “I’ve stood here, and closer, nights before, but the ghostlight never reached this far.”

“There are two possible explanations for that.” Matthew said. “The first is the gradual expansion you previously mentioned. It may not be so gradual anymore.”

“Good lord!” Mr. Carter exclaimed. “Then I truly did get you three here in the nick of time!”

“The second is that the haunting has always extended this far. It’s not uncommon for the Astral hand to extend further than visible manifestatios.” Matthew said.

He turned to Martin and Joseph. “Done?”

They nodded.

“Wait? You’ve examined the haunting already?” Mr. Carter asked.

“Yes.” Matthew answered.” I know Illustrated Phantom Stories likes to depict us gesturing and mumbling whenever we perform our manesological Operations, but we really don’t need to do all that.” Matthew tapped his head. “It’s all a mental exercise. All we need to do is visualize some images from the Dyeus culture, preserved through the ages by the great Abramelin and taught to us by the Ror Raas, and concentrate. It’s really simple, once you grasp the basics of meditation and disciplined thinking.”

“I once managed to pull off an Operation while playing the piano.” Joseph said. “And I’m a very bad piano player.”

“I detected one manes, and only one.” Matthew said, “How about you two?”

“Just one.” Joseph said.

“Just one for me as well.” Martin said.

“Just one ghost?” Mr. Carter asked. “That’s not possible! Wait, does that mean the others fled?”

Matthew shook his head. “We would have detected the path of their flight. No. There’s only one manes in this haunting, and there has always only ever been one manes.”

“But there was a small army on stage!”

“Manes are not limited to one body, or one form. We once encountered an entire army of 17th century Cavaliers, all created by one soldier who felt lonely on an empty battlefield.”

“One ghost…” Mr. Carter mumbled to himself. “Only one…what does that mean?”

“We’ll have to ask him to find out.” Matthew said. “Now, please excuse us a moment, Mr. Carter. We need to conference together. When we examine the spiritual components of a manes, it’s not like measuring something with a meter stick, there’s a degree of subjectivity involved. I may think one component is strong, and Dr. Glass might think the same component is weak while Dr. Ernst thinks it’s average. So, excuse us, please.”

“Take all the time you need.” Mr. Carter said.

The manesologists briefly conversed on how strong various Egyptian words Mr. Carter recognized from Nesbitt’s Guide to Manesology were. Mr. Carter attempted to follow along, but the pronunciation of various words threw him. Was khet really pronounced cu wat? He couldn’t believe it. He hoped that the next edition of Nesbitt’s Guide to Manesology came with a pronunciation guide.

When they were done, Matthew turned to Mr. Carter.

“For the two spiritual components that control a manes’ externalized powers, the khet and the sekhem, we find that they’re both strong.”

“Oh!” Mr. Carter winced. “That means they could have seriously hurt me!”

“Even a ghost with a weak khet and sekhem can hurt a person, Mr. Carter.” Joseph said. “People say “The living have no defense against the dead” for a very good reason. Compared to a human, a ghost’s strength is always overwhelming no matter how it ranks. We rank how strong a ghost’s sekhem and khet are not to judge how dangerous a ghost is, but to determine how a ghost may behave. For instance, say we encounter a ghost that is physically moving a locket with the power of his khet. If his khet is powerful enough to crush the locket, we can conclude that him moving it demonstrates that he wants to protect it. But if his khet isn’t powerful enough, it opens the possibility that he’s not trying to protect the locket but shatter it, for whatever reason.”

“But…what exactly does a strong sekhem and a strong khet mean?” Mr. Carter asked.

Joseph rolled his eyes. “Did you not hear a word that I’ve told you, Mr. Carter?It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, if it doesn’t matter,what’s the harm in telling me?”

“Alright then. His khet is powerful enough to uproot mountains, twist metal like flower stems, and carry the very oceans upon his back.”

The blood ran from Mr. Carter’s face.

Joseph thought it best not to talk about all the psychic violence the ghost could commit with his sekhem.

“Oh, don’t you blanche on us, Mr. Carte!” Joseph said. “You haven’t listened to a word I said! Even the little wisps that can’t so much as pinch with their piddling khets can kill a man just by reaching through his skin and pinching his heart! A ghost’s sekhem and khet tells us the least about their personality, the least about whether or not they pose a danger! If you want to know whether a manes is a danger or not, you look at its personality components.”

“Speaking of which, let’s discuss that pair now.” Matthew said, hoping to take Mr. Carter’s mind off ocean-carrying ghosts.

“The ba and ka are the personality pair. The ba determines the strength of memories and behaviors copied from the living host. The ka determines the strength of novel impulses. The ba and ka oppose each other under a theory I developed, and out of this struggle springs the manes’ personality.”

“I understand that.” Mr. Carter said. “The concept wasn’t hard for me to grasp when I read it in Nesbit’s.”

“Mr. Carter, we have determined that the manes has a strong ba and a very strong ka.”

“Oh, lord…” Mr. Carter wiped the sweat from his face. “Dr. Ernst, why do you keep telling me the ghost is so strong?”

Matthew shrugged. “Because it is.” he said.

“Just my luck…so, what are the implications of the ghost having ba and ka components this strong?”

“Manes with a strong ba and a very strong ka are known informally as specters. Their strong ba means they remember their life near perfectly, better than their living body ever did. They remember all ambitions, desires, and dreams their body once possessed, no matter how deeply buried they might have been. In a manes with a weak ka, a strong ba causes a manes to cycle through familiar behaviors in a phantasmagoria. But this manes has a ka greater than his ba, and so he is a specter. Specters are known as seekers of unfulfilled dreams. They seek to fulfill the desires of their ba in novel ways, and are stuck cycling through unfamiliar behaviors, daring in death what their body feared to do in life.”

“In other words, your ghost wants to be an actor, and is stuck continually trying to become an actor.” Joseph said.

“So, how do you fix the ghost and restore his lucidity?”  Mr. Carter asked. “Will you use a manesological Operation to decrease the power of his ba and ka?”

Matthew shook his head. “No. We don’t like to alter naturally strong bas and kas unless absolutely necessary. Alteration can destroy memories and fundamentally alter behaviors. It’s not right to do that to a sapient being unless there’s no other option. We’re going to have a discussion with the ghost. Often, words are a better treatment than taking a mane apart with manesological Operations.”

“You think you can break the ghost out of his phantasmagoria just by talking to him?” Mr. Carter asked skeptically.

“Of course. We’ve done it before.” Mathew said. “

Now, let’s discuss the physical impression pair. The sah and and shut are made of impressions of the physical world. This manes’ sah, which is an impression of the physical body, is very strong. This furthers our theory that the manes is taking on the forms you see on stage not because he is compelled to, but because he wants to. He could easily appear as he was in life, but he isn’t. Manes with a sah this strong can choose how they appear. He is choosing not to appear as who he was in life.”

“What about the other component?” Mr. Carter asked. “That’s the one that imprints on objects and locations, right? Like…buildings…like theaters…?”

“That would be the shut.” Matthew replied. “The shut is both an impression of objects close to the living body as well as a power that imprints upon such objects.”

“Yes. That one. How strong is his shut?”

“Strong.”

Mr. Carter sighed. “Why are they all strong, Mr. Ernst? Why am I so unfortunate?”

“They are not all strong. Some of them are very strong.” Joseph said.

“What can a ghost with a strong shut do, exactly?” Mr. Carter asked. “I know it means he can do something to the theater itself, but…”

Joseph rolled his eyes. “He can make the walls vanish, the halls stretch on forever, summon light to suddenly fill a room, anything, everything, does it really matter, Mr. Carter?”

“No, I suppose not.” Mr. Carter said. “It’s a nigh-omnipotent ghost, no matter how its powers are categorized!”

Matthew pointed to the thorn in Mr. Carter’s chest. “Now, about your connection. We looked at the Astral impression pair, that would be the ib and the rn. We discussed those two with you back at the office.”

“I recall.” Mr. Carter said.

“His ib, unsurprisingly, is strong. Its run, however, is only average. That I hope is of some comfort to you.

“Oh. How wonderful. It’s not all-powerful.” Mr. Carter said. “One part of it, the part associated with everyone but me, is only of average strength! Oh, I am so fortunate! Dr. Ernst, does this finally end the examination?” Mr. Carter asked.

“That’s all eight of the Ogdoan Quad, so yes.” Matthew answered.

“Very good.” Mr. Carter said. “At least this part of the ordeal is over with.”

Mr. Carter checked his pocket watch. “So…the haunting shouldn’t happen until 10:30, though given how it keeps happening earlier and earlier, it’ll likely happen before 10:30. Still, my watch says it’s only 9:00…so, what do we do now?”

“What else can we do?” Matthew said. “We wait.”

“I don’t suppose you know any good street food vendors in Essex?” Joseph asked.

“I’m sorry, sir, “street food?”” Mr. Carter couldn’t believe that a manesologist ate penny foods like some sort of manual laborer. He remembered the mess on Dr. Morton’s desk back, but it was still such a strange idea–a man who wielded the power of an ancient, pre-human race bundled up in a little candle–eating stall foods!

“Vendor foods are his weakness.” Martin said.

“Oh, “his” weakness! As if you don’t love jellied eels.” Joseph said.

“They’re very good in the right broth.” Martin said. “So good they transcend being street food. You know good and well some restaurants serve them.”

Mr. Carter believed that jellied eels were a fine British tradition and were indeed good in the right broth–but that was when they were served in a restaurant. If they came out of a tin–good lord!–there was no telling what else came out of the tin with it!

If the manesologists were, in fact, ghosts inside dead bodies, perhaps street food was how they died…

“We’ll wait right here, Mr. Carter.” Matthew said. “It won’t feel as long as you think it will.”

“That’s the trick about waiting for ghosts to go into their act.” Joseph said.  “The wait only feels long until it actually gets long. You think “Oh no, we have to wait for sunrise before the ghost starts ringing the bell in the chapel tower!” But then before you know it, it’s sunrise, and the bell’s ringing but you can’t get up the stairs fast enough because someone sat the wrong way and their leg fell asleep.” Joseph cut his eyes at Martin.

“Are there any chairs we can borrow, Mr. Carter?” Matthew asked.

“There are plenty…in the theater.” Mr. Carter answered. “I’m sorry. I should have made sure to leave chairs out, I’m not sure why I didn’t think of doing so. But there’s one or two in the kitchen. I’ll go retrieve them…but of course, I’ll need one of you to go with me.”

Joseph raised a bushy eyebrow. “But the ghost is in there, in the theater. Why would you need one of us to go with you to guard you as you move…away from the ghost?”

Mr. Carter paused. Dr. Morton had a point.

But he still wanted someone to go with thim.

“You raise a very salient point, Dr. Morton.” Mr. Carter said. “I will admit, that while most of my feelings concerning ghosts and hauntings are informed by logic, some of them aren’t. This is one that isn’t. I simply cannot stand the thought of being alone in this building.”

“Remember what I told you about ghosts, Mr. Carter.” Joseph said. “It’s rational to be afraid of them. It’s rational to be afraid of anything that can kill with just a touch.”

“Thank you for reminding me of that fact.” Mr. Carter grumbled.

“But there is something wrong with being incurious about ghosts, and you’re being so incurious as to be irrational. You’ve been in this building before, alone, while the Astral hand was present. It was always present, it was just simply beyond your awareness. And what’s more, the kitchen is away from the theater! You can’t get around that point, Mr. Carter!”

“I am being irrational. I admit it. But an irrational thought can still be a very strong, very pressin thought!”

“And your irrational thoughts are strong, are they?”

“Yes. Very strong!”

Joseph sighed. “Very well then, if you need me to chaperone you down to the kitchen, I’ll come with you.” Joseph said. “I’ll protect you from the dust bunnies.”

“Don’t even bother.” Martin said. “There’s no need.” Suddenly, Martin was seemingly sitting on the air itself, legs crossed and feet inches off the ground.

“You’re floating!” Mr. Carter exclaimed. “Oh! I know what this is! You’re using your dogs!”

“Yes I am.” Martin said.

“His magic dogs are very versatile.” Joseph said. “They can block bullets, pin down ghosts in all their forms and manifestations, and make very nice seats.” Joseph sat next to Martin and put his arm around him. “If only he was as versatile as his pets, eh?”

“Very bold of you to say that when I could order one to bite you.” Martin said.

Matthew joined the other three on top the dogs. Mr. Carter remained standing on the ground.

“Um…may I touch it?” Mr. Carter asked.

“Now hold on!” Joseph exclaimed. “Ghosts vex you to the point I have to walk with you to the kitchen, but Dr. Glass’ weird invisible thought-beasts fascinate you? Don’t you know they came out of his mind, his dirty, little mind!”

“Ghosts are uncertain creatures.” Mr. Carter replied. “But Dr. Glass’ dogs were created by him and are controlled by him.”

“That is true.” Martin said. “They are extensions of my will. They obey my will and are, in fact, composed of my will.”

“Oh, like you aren’t an uncertain creature yourself.” Joseph said. “You’re the most talked-about member of our group. Half the letters to Illustrated Phantom Stories come from people claiming that you’re the Sandman because they swear they saw you in their dreams, or that you’re Springheel Jack because they swear they saw you leaping over their heads one foggy evening, or that you’re a vampire because they swear they saw you in Parliament.”

“So, may I touch it?” Mr. Carter asked again.

“You can do more than that.” Martin offered a hand. “Come on. Take a seat.”

Mr. Carter took Martin’s hand and climbed up on the invisible bench.

“Incredible!” Mr. Carter exclaimed. “It’s just like how they were described in Illustrated Phantom Stories! They’re not hot, or cold, or fuzzy, or slippery. There’s no texture or temperature. I suppose if I had to say that they were something, I would say that they were smooth–but there must be something like friction at work since we’re not falling off.”

“It’s all force and energy, all push and pull.” Martin explained. “It’s an animal without meat or skin.”

“They are so neat! I almost asked you back at the office to make them appear.” Mr. Carter admitted.

“Oh, they’re always there.” Martin said. “Even when I’m sleeping, they’re right by my side.”

“Such incredible things! Beings of pure thought-energy!” Mr. Carter exclaimed.

“Bessantic energy, to be precise.” Martin said. “Ghosts are made of Odic energy. Thought-forms, such as my dogs, are made of Bessantic energy. But the difference is rather academic, I’ll admit.”

“Oh, look at you, being all technical in front of the client.” Joseph said. “The important difference between Bessantic energy and Odic energy, Mr. Carter…is the taste.”

“The taste?”

“Yes. You see, Bessantic energy pairs best with white wine and Odic energy with red wine.”

Mr. Carter looked questioningly at Martin.

Matthew hid his smile behind his hand.

Martin sighed. “Odic and Bessantic energies are not edible.”

“They are.” Joseph said. “That you can eat them is the best-kept secret of the Ror Raas. It’s how they keep up their magic powers.”

Martin nudged Joseph with his elbow. “Don’t pay any mind to Dr. Morton, Mr. Carter. He’s back in one of his moods.”

“I don’t mind some jesting.” Mr. Carter said. “After all, we have some waiting ahead of us. We have to do something to entertain ourselves.

The group sat together on the dogs for what to Mr. Carter felt like minutes, but was, in fact, a single minute. His anxiety needled him and he could not become calm like the three manesologist. He kept watching the Astral hand, waiting for it to do something to signal the coming of the blue ghostlight. He kept watching and sweating and worrying, and then he decided that he had to say something or he would burst.

“Is this the worst part of the job?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Joseph asked.

“I mean this infernal waiting, it’s the worst part of this whole ghost business to me, having to wait night after night after night. I remember sitting right here and waiting, just waiting, and it would be so quiet I could hear my pocket watch ticking away, just tick-tick-tick, and I’d wonder how many ticks had passed. Then I’d take my pocket watch out in the light of the kitchen and see that I’d spent hours waiting–many hours. All that time, burned up by ticking.”

“For me, no, waiting isn’t the worst part of the job” Joseph said. “The worst part for me comes at the end, for the cases that don’t end right.”

Matthew nodded.

“Yes. I’m still bothered by how the doctor turned out.” Martin remarked cryptically.

“Oh…” Mr. Carter exclaimed. The conversation had taken a turn he didn’t expect.

“You don’t need to worry, Mr. Carter.” Joseph said. “Our cases always end well for the living. It’s the ghosts that are sometimes beyond our ability to help.”

“Well…don’t think I’m unsympathetic to ghosts.” Mr. Carter thought it prudent to voice his sympathies toward ethereal man, just in case Teddy’s rumor happened to be true. “Which ones didn’t end well, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Have you heard the story of Ellington House?”

“Ellington House…no, I don’t recall an Ellington House…no, wait! That was the case in Epping forest! The house that appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the woods, and the four young people that got stuck in it when their mechanical buggy broke down on the nearby road! I remember that one!”

“Yes, that was the case.” Joseph said.

“But didn’t it end well? The ghost was at peace by the end of the story.”

“Yes, he was in a better position than when the whole thing started, but he still had a lot of regrets, and a lot of pain.” Joseph said. “Illustrated Phantom Stories likes to stop the story just as the ghost quiets down…but that’s never the whole story.”

Matthew nodded. “No, it isn’t.”

“Mr. Carter, we like to make sure our clients, humans and manes, are happy, not just at peace.” Martin said.

Mr. Carter attempted to steer the conversation back towards a more positive direction. “Well…as a layman, it’s all this waiting that gets to me! Do you gentlemen have to do a lot of waiting upon ghosts? Is this a common thing in your line of work?”

“Oh yes,there is quite a lot of waiting in manesology.” Joseph said.

“I figured that Illustrated Phantom Stories edited out the waiting. In their stories, you three always seem to open the door just as the ghost does something.”

“Hm. Yes.” Joseph said. “It’s a good thing ghosts tend to be an awfully punctual lot. Otherwise we’d be doing a lot of this a lot of times for a lot of nothing. The Birkman Road rider, he always makes his rounds at midnight. The Harkingwood bride, she always sings to greet the sunrise. The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow, he always rides on Halloween night.”

“Hold on a moment. He’s real?” Mr. Carter was dumbstruck. “The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow? The Washington Irving character? His story was true?”

“His story was based on true events.” Joseph said. “Mr. Irving took some liberties, but on the whole, he gave an accurate account of the legend. He was far more accurate than Illustrated Phantom Stories, that’s for sure.”

“So…wait. He wasn’t Brom Bones?”

“Brom Bones was a fictional character invented by Irving. The Headless Horseman was real.”

“Unbelievable! Have you ever met him? I know you’ve been to America a few times.”

“No. But others have. The American manesologists, the Poeists, they love him. He’s their mascot. They arrange parties for the old Hessian and his midnight rides. They dress up like it’s the 18th century every Halloween and line his run with lanterns and cheer like banshees as he goes galloping by. The poor ghost. God only knows what he thinks of it all.” Joseph sighed. “Oh, how I look forward to the day one of them tries to touch him and he chops them off at the neck!”

And there it was–another little wad of grimness tossed Mr. Carter’s way. The theater owner couldn’t help but cringe. Why were manesologists like this? They tossed out grim observations like one would say something about the weather. Mr. Carter guessed that prowling around haunted houses and graveyards must have given them a distorted perception of what was appropriate for small talk.

Martin saw Mr. Carter cringe. “Don’t mind the old man, Mr. Carter.” he said. “He’s still upset from the Revolutionary War. General Cornwallis was an old classmate of his, you see, so Yorktown rubbed him the wrong way.”

“I dislike American manesologists for the same reason I dislike Americans in general–they’re loud, brass, and self-centered.” Joseph said.

Martin smirked. “Mr. Carter, have you heard about the evolutionary theory of niche competition?” Martin looked at Joseph. “How the more similar one organism is to another, the more likely it is that they will compete over ecological niches?”

Mr. Carter chuckled. “I may have heard something about that!” he said.

As grim as these manesologists were, at least they balanced their grimness with humor. Dr. Glass and Dr. Morton got along like a nephew with his favorite uncle.

Mr. Carter gazed at the olprt radiance. He had feared the silvery-white light when he first saw it in the offices of Ernst, Morton, and Glass, but now, after spending so much time within its glow, it no longer held any fear for him. Even the black spike in his chest revealed by the light had lost its menace. He began to appreciate the beauty of the radiance. It was like moonlight. It was soft and gentle and warm.

“This is really a very pretty light.” Mr. Carter said.

“It is.” Martin said. “To think, long ago, there used to be gaeite spires that reached higher than the mountains. Imagine what it must have looked like from high above–moonlight colored needles all around the planet! Earth used to have stars that rose to meet the stars of heaven.”

“They aren’t just beautiful.” Mr. Carter said. “Though they are indeed beautiful. I’m struck by how useful they are, I mean for things besides ghosts. We’ve been sitting here for ages, but I don’t feel like getting a blanket.”

Matthew checked his own pocket watch. “It’s only been a few minutes.”

“We still have your blanket if you’d like it.” Joseph said.

“No need! It normally gets so cold in here if you don’t keep moving around, but not with these candles. Their light is as warm as it is bright.”

“They truly are very versatile devices.” Joseph said. “Even used as ordinary candles, they’re useful. With other candles, you have to worry about the rain and the wind and no matter what you do, some wax will always end up on your hand. But gaeite doesn’t burn, never melts, and can’t go out. It’s just heat, light, and magic.”

Joseph smirked at Martin. “And if Dr. Glass wouldn’t get upset over me doing it, I’d even use my candle to warm my soup and light my pipe.”

“You would think of the most mundane uses for the Dyeus’ miracle, wouldn’t you?” Martin asked.

“Of course! Why, the Dyeus themselves used it for mundane purposes! It’s just for them, ghosts and thaumaturgy were mundane, everyday things. If the four races of the Dyeus were born in our modern world, I bet you they would be using their gaeite to warm their food, make their coffee, and light their pipes.”

“And I bet they would have the mental faculties to get up and go set the stove.” Martin said. “Unlike some people, who have to helplessly wait for others to do it for them.”

“What do you think, Dr. Ernst?” Joseph asked, “Do you think the Dyeus would have used their candles to warm their food or do you see the Great Ghost Kings fumbling for a spark at the stove?”

“I think it’s getting too late in the evening for games, you two.” Matthew said.

“Ha. Coward!” Joseph grinned. “But regardless, Mr. Carter, it’s very handy to have a light that never goes out. It’s like having a pocket knife that never dulls.”

“It never goes out?” Mr. Carter asked. “But isn’t it powered by a battery–a normal battery?”

“Yes.” Matthew answered. “And it can run out if you don’t watch it, but it’s possible to feed some of the energy created by the olprt back into the battery. You can keep it going forever if you’re smart about it. Just producing olprt like we’re doing now, we could do that forever. But if we started performing specific Operations over a long period of time, we would have to watch the battery.”

“Ah, perpetual motion!” Mr. Carter gazed with wonder at the candle. “These small things truly are filled with miracles! Why, if you could attach one of these to a dynamo…”

Martin smiled. “No offense, Mr. Carter, but that hungry look in your eyes is why the Ror Raas are very selective with who they share their gaeite with.”

“Ah. Yes. I understand.” Mr. Carter quickly pulled his eyes away from the candle. “The consequences of misusing gaeite were made very clear at London.”

“Personally, I think they ought not to hoard it like they do.” Joseph said.

“You would take a reckless position.” Martin said. “If gaeite was handed out to everyone, the world would be destroyed in an hour or so, maybe less.”

“If man is meant to destroy himself, then he’ll do it. He’ll do it with sticks and stones if it’s really in his nature.” Joseph said. “But if it’s not in his nature, then I think he can hold the sun in his hands and all will be well.”

“That shows a good deal of faith in mankind.” Mr. Carter said.

“Well, I ought to, right? After all, I’m part of mankind!”

“Ah, of course, of course! It’s just that…well…you know, some rumors contest that fact.”

Mr. Carter felt they were all close enough now for him to give voice to that rumor which had been nagging him ever since he arrived in Blackwall.

True, he had only known the manesologists for a short time, and he was quite upset with them through a good portion of that time,  but none of his friends in Essex ever waited on ghosts with him, not even his closest, lifelong friends.

“Which rumors are you talking about, Mr. Carter?” Joseph asked. “The ones that say I’m a vampire, or the ones that say I’m a devil?”

“There are rumors that you’re a vampire? I’ve never heard of those!” Mr. Carter exclaimed.

He had stumbled upon another rumor to add to his collection.

“Oh, that’s just one of the typical rumors.” Joseph said.

“I’ve heard rumors that you’ve destroyed vampires, but never that you are one!” Mr. Carter said.

“‘I’ve long been perplexed by all the vampire rumors.” Martin said. “There was a surge of reported vampire attacks in 1861 after Edward James published the first scientific work on manes, “Multiple Intelligences Within the Human Body.” That’s understandable. The rational confirmation of something long suspected of being folkloric caused people to wonder what else might be real. But that was four years ago! The idea that ghosts are real and vampires aren’t should be as commonly accepted as the idea that horses are real and unicorns are not–and yet people still claim that we once dispatched a vampire in the Battersea ruins!”

“I never believed in that rumor.” Mr. Carter said, feeling rather proud of himself.

“Anyway, Mr. Carter, what rumors are you talking about?” Joseph asked. “You need to be specific.”

“Er, I’m talking about the ones that say you’re… really a ghost wearing a person’s skin. A dead person’s skin.”

Mr. Carter felt very silly, now that he had finally said it, like when he talked about electric lamps.

“Oh those!” Joseph grinned. “Let me guess, “Only a ghost can truly understand a ghost, so the Ror Raas put a bunch of ghosts inside dead bodies and ta-dah! Manesologists!””

“The rumors were…like that, more or less…”

“As if humans couldn’t truly understand a ghost!” Joseph said.” Ghosts come from humans! Ghosts are troubled by loneliness, confusion, and regret, just like humans. You don’t hear people saying that a zoologist can’t understand a tiger without being one himself, now do you?”

“No…I suppose not.” Mr. Carter answered sheepishly. It had seemed like such a viable rumor not that long ago…

“Let me tell you something more–bodily possession doesn’t work like the rumor suggests, Mr. Carter.” Joseph said. “A ghost can’t just enter into a dead body and move it around. We’ve met ghosts that have tried just that. They recently decoupled from their bodies and felt very strongly that they were the body lying still beneath their ectoplasmic manifestation. They thought “Dear God, I’ve gone outside of my body. Maybe things will go back to normal if I just go back inside and put it on like a coat?” But it doesn’t work like that, sadly, it doesn’t work anything like that.”

“But haven’t ghosts taken possession of people before?” Mr. Carter asked. “Like Legion in the Bible? Like the Contagious Song of Boston?”

“Yes. But they work by taking over a living mind and using that to control the body. Possession is an Astral power rooted in the sekhem When there’s no living mind to take over in a dead body, the ghost has to operate the meat manually.”

“Oh dear.” Mr. Carter said. “That’s an…interesting and descriptive way to put it, Dr. Morton.”

“It’s an interesting sight to see.” Joseph said. “Interesting, but a little disturbing.”

Mr. Carter instantly regretted ever starting a conversation with the manesologists.

“At first, there’s a rumbling sound. It’s not like a death rattle, though when you first hear it you might think that’s what it is. But a death rattle is from air moving through compressed passageways. The rumbling sound I’m speaking of comes from things inside the body moving in ways they shouldn’t. There’s a stretching sound, like guitar strings being tuned too tightly, that comes from the ligaments. There’s a grinding sound like mortar and pestle that comes from the bones slipping in their sockets. There’s a wet, sucking sound like–”

“We have action, my friends!” Matthew suddenly exclaimed.

Mr. Carter was thankful that something stopped Joseph’s speech–but his thankfulness was short lived.

The Astral hand at the edge of Matthew’s olprt radiance was darker and larger and stretched like seaweed through a sea of silver.

There was a sound. At first, it was quiet and crackling like people whispering in church, or in court, but it quickly grew, like a tidal wave moving closer to shore, until it was like a roaring wind.

Mr. Carter covered his ears. “Good God! It’s like being inside a tornado! They’ve never been this loud!”

Mr. Carter gasped. The olprt radiance was suddenly as black as a beetle’s shell.

“Stay calm, Mr. Carter.” Joseph said. “It’s just a gush of ectoplasm and Odic force, not uncommon, not a cause for alarm. We just need to adjust the strength of our olprt radiance to match.

The manesologists turned the knobs on their gaeite candles and the deep, dark color of the olprt radiance faded to a light gray and then to the familiar silvery-white.

Mr. Carter was happy to see the silvery light that had once frightened him return.

Then he looked down and gasped again.

“The stake in my chest!” he exclaimed. “It’s gone!”

“No, it’s just invisible now.” Joseph explained. “It’s still in you. It’s just that it’s such a weak manifestation, and our olprt radiance is now so powerfully tuned, that your shard doesn’t displace the olprt, and thus doesn’t appear.”

Mr. Carter looked beyond the olprt radiance and saw something that made him shout–the blue ghostlight  was surging.

The ghostlight pulsed powerfully from the door. It did not seep through the door as it had nights before, it burst through the door and continued on its way until it glowed down the entirety of the hallway.

“Ah! Look! Ghostlight! Ghostlight everywhere!” Mr. Carter exclaimed.

“Please don’t scream when you’re this close to me” Joseph said.

“It goes all the way down the hallway! We’re surrounded!”Mr. Carter screamed.

“So?” Joseph shrugged his massive shoulders. “What, does the color of the ghostlight scare you or something? The ghost could light up all of Essex and we would still be safe inside our olprt radiance.”

“Are we truly safe here?” Mr. Carter asked. “I don’t feel safe in here…”

Joseph rolled his eyes. “Oh, please…”

“We are absolutely safe.” Matthew assured him. “We have a system. Even as we speak, my friends and I are performing the appropriate Operations to protect us, silently, in our minds. The manes cannot hurt us, neither physically, nor psychically. Calm down, Mr. Carter. Trust to us. Trust to the science of the modern age and the secrets of the Dyeus age.”

Mr. Carter nodded. “Okay…I feel calmer now. It’s not so bad if I don’t look at anything but my hands…”

“That’s the spirit.” Joseph said.

“So, what do we do now?” Mr. Carter asked. “Do we wait for this to pass like a storm?”

“Of course not.” Matthew said. “We’re going to talk to the ghost and figure him out. First, we’re going to see if he reacts to us the same way it reacts to you. We’re going to leave you here with Dr. Morton while Dr. Glass and myself have a look inside the theater.”

“I don’t suppose I can switch with one of you?” Joseph asked. “I really want to see what the haunting looks like, and I would be ever so grateful if one of you volunteered for babysitter duty in my place.”

“Babysitter duty?” Mr. Carter exclaimed indignantly.

“Stay with him, Joseph.” Matthew said.

“Your prodigious size might have a calming, subconscious effect on him.” Martin said.

“What?” Joseph exclaimed.

“Indeed, what?” Mr. Carter exclaimed.

“You’re tall. Mr. Carter likely sees you as a source of safety, subconsciously” Martin said. “You were an alienist, Joseph, you should know this.”

“I do not see him as a source of safety!” Mr. Carter said.

“Oh! Well, in that case, I’ll go in with Dr. Glass and Dr. Ernst, and you can stay out here” Joseph said.

“…I do not see him as a source of safety for his size.” Mr. Carter quickly corrected himself.

“Stay with him, Dr. Morton.” Matthew said. “We’ll be right back.”

“Please don’t take too long!” Mr. Carter said. “I’ll worry with you two out of sight! Are you sure there isn’t some sort of Operation you could perform that would allow me to see you two through the wall while you work?”

“Sure, there’s an Operation.” Joseph said. “It’s the punch-a-hole-in-your-wall Operation. Want us to try it?”

“Uh…I think not.”

“I thought so. Now sit close by me and I’ll protect you from the dust bunnies, Mr. Carter.”