The door hit the floor with an echoing crash, loud enough to wake the dead; and then it rocked briefly back and forth before lying still. But no-one was looking at the door. Everyone was looking at JC. He was looking at his hands, turning them back and forth as though he’d never seen them before.
“When did you turn into the Incredible Hulk, JC?” said Happy.
“Beats the hell out of me,” said JC. “I’m as mystified as you. It was as though the door suddenly didn’t weigh anything at all.” He looked at the shattered brass hinges, hanging loosely from the solid door-frame. “It would appear that the change started in me, by my contact with the Outside, is an ongoing process. That isn’t finished with me yet.”
He knelt beside the door, tried to lift it with one hand, and found he barely had the strength to raise it off the floor. Whatever more-than-human strength had moved in him moments before, it was clearly gone. JC stood up, turned his back on the fallen door, and smiled briefly at the others.
“As long as I’m not actually turning green and exhibiting a more-than-usually-surly disposition…I wouldn’t worry about it.”
The ghost of Dr. Todd advanced suddenly on Happy, striding forward with uncanny speed. The cold, grim expression on the ghost’s face didn’t change at all. Happy quickly backed away, but the ghost went after him, rapidly closing the gap.
“Don’t let him get too close!” said Melody. “He’s still sucking the heat out of everything!”
“I had worked that out for myself, thank you!” said Happy, back-pedalling fast. “I’m trying to hold him off telepathically, but I can’t find anything to lock onto. I’m not even convinced there’s anything there to reach, with his brain gone. All I’m picking up is his presence, a shape impressed on reality through sheer force of will. He shines so bright, JC! Looking at him is like being blinded by a spotlight!”
“Then stop looking at him!” said JC. “Put up your shields! Keep him out!”
“I’m trying! I’m trying! Damn, he’s strong!”
Happy’s back slammed up against the far wall. There was nowhere left for him to go; and the ghost was still advancing. Melody came rushing out from behind her instruments and put herself between Happy and the ghost of Dr. Todd. His expression didn’t change; but he stopped dead, right in front of Melody. His hands came up from his sides and clutched her shoulders. She cried out, in shock as much as pain, as the terrible cold hit her. She shook and shuddered under his touch, the fierce cold stabbing through her like knives. A layer of frost formed on her face, covering her eyeballs like cataracts.
JC ran forward, grabbed Melody by one arm, and hauled her out of the way. The ghost had no physical strength to hang on to her. He didn’t even look aside as Melody disappeared from in front of him. His cold gaze remained fixed on Happy. Melody fell to one knee, shaking and shuddering. Happy moved quickly out from in front of the ghost to kneel beside her, throwing his arms around her, using the warmth of his own body to drive the cold out of hers. The ghost turned to glare at him. JC moved to put himself between the ghost and his partners, whipped off his very dark sunglasses, and showed what he had for eyes to the ghost of Dr. Todd. They glared brightly, fiercely, in the gloom, like the sun come down to touch the Earth; and Dr. Todd could not face the light. He backed away, slowly, seeming to glide as much as walk, until he came to a halt on the far side of the room.
Melody scrubbed roughly at her face with both hands, brushing the frost away. Her skin was blue-white, almost bruised, but already fierce spots of angry colour were returning. She moved restlessly inside Happy’s arms, and he immediately let her go and stood up, letting Melody get to her feet under her own strength. She could be funny about things like that. JC replaced his sunglasses.
“Dear God, man,” said Laurie. “What the hell happened to your eyes?”
“Work-related injury,” said JC. “I let some demons get too close to me during a haunting down in London’s Underground. They very nearly killed me; but something from Outside reached down and touched me, giving me the strength I needed to save myself. I’m more than I was; and you can see it in my eyes.”
“Something from where?” said Laurie. “From Heaven?”
“Undecided, as yet,” said JC.
“Don’t you think you should try to find out?” said Laurie. “You’ve been marked. But is it a sign of grace or a sign of ownership? I think you owe it to yourself to find out the true nature of your benefactor—if only for your own peace of mind.”
“Trust me,” said JC. “It is right there on my list of Things to Do.” He looked across at Melody and Happy, and they both nodded quickly to show that they were themselves again. “Happy, keep trying to read that ghost. Get something out of him. But don’t let him get inside your head. Melody, it’s research time. I need to know everything you can find about Dr. Emil Todd. What’s his story, and what connection does he have to Bradleigh Halt?”
“I’m on it,” said Melody, already back behind her rank of instruments, fingers stabbing stiffly at her keyboards as she accessed the relevant files on her computer. “The Institute still has an open file on Dr. Todd, as an unsolved case…But it is really heavily restricted, JC, for several pay grades above ours. This is the kind of information the likes of you and I aren’t supposed to even know exists.”
“You’ve been hacking the restricted files on your own time again, haven’t you?” said JC.
“Yes,” said Melody.
“Good girl,” said JC. “Now tell me things I need to know.”
“Dr. Todd disappeared, late in the year 1878,” said Melody. “Same year as the missing train…And according to this file, it’s all connected to something called the Ghost Caller. This is pretty obscure stuff, JC. Old-time information, much of it second hand; I’m not sure anyone at the Institute knew about this stuff before we were sent in.”
“Except we can’t be sure of anything where the Carnacki Institute’s concerned, these days,” Happy said darkly.
“The Ghost Caller,” said Melody, talking over Happy with the ease of long practice. “Also known as The Call For The Dead. No definite information here about what it was or how it worked. Presumably some kind of Victorian steampunk break-through, to produce a machine we have yet to duplicate.”
“Mostly because any sane person would have more sense than to build anything that calls ghosts,” said Happy. “Anyone with two working brain-cells to bang together knows it’s in everyone’s best interests to keep the dead at arm’s length.”
“Ah, but it wasn’t always like that,” said Melody. “The Ghost Caller, this incredible machine, was the brain-child of Dr. Emil Todd, (almost certainly not his real name,) one of the greatest and most popular mediums of Victorian times. When they were all going mad for Spiritualism, and raising the ghosts of the departed, so they could make contact with loved ones on the Other Side. Dr. Todd toured the country with his act, appearing in all the biggest theatres, putting on spectacular shows. He produced spirit voices, visions, ectoplasm, and extended conversations with the dearly departed of people in his audience. Charged a pretty price for admission but always gave the people their money’s worth. He was, briefly, a national sensation. But he’d barely been in the big time a year before he was exposed as a fake and a fraud. He really did do most of it with mirrors. And ventriloquism, conjuring tricks, and plants in the audience. All very obvious, in retrospect. A jumped-up showman, with delusions of grandeur. He was ruined, abandoned by the audiences who’d adored and believed in him. He was hounded from the stage and forced into early retirement. Had to go into hiding, for his own safety.
“And then he disappeared. As suddenly and completely as one of his own stage effects.
“With anyone else, the story might have ended there, but Dr. Todd was made of sterner stuff. He was determined to restore his reputation by presenting the public with something undeniably real. So he took the extensive fortune he’d amassed and spent pretty much all of it in having the Ghost Caller created for him. An apparently very impressive device, for which no contemporary description survives, but powerful enough to call ghosts to it, like moths to a bright light.