Sherlock Holmes The Risen: Sherlock Holmes, #26

By Michael John Light

An innocent picnic and hike turns into a nightmare that will haunt London and Sherlock Holmes for decades.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Pirillo
• Release date: Oct 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540132840

Book preview

Broken Skies

Twenty Years Ago

The skies were boiling with trouble, brewing anything but the romance he was hoping for. But wonder of wonders, she actually grasped his hand and warmly squeezed it.

My God! Terror warmed her heart, he thought to himself.

Several large bolts of lightning ripped through the overhead clouds, showering them with brilliant stabs of light and making the huge stones seem to dance as their shadows flickered.

Time to go back! She insisted.

But we just got here! He argued. Let's go inside. Everyone says it feels so...different to do that.

I seriously doubt it will make one bit of difference. She snapped at him, her peevishness rising to the surface like a venomous snake once more.

From of the clouding skies, a huge bolt of lightning struck the monolith that was just a few yards from them.

A pungent smell like burning oil scented the air about them and then the monolith that was struck began to make a humming sound.

They both froze. What was going on?

Hear that? Arabelle asked.

Be hard not to, William replied His eyes snapped to the next stone whose top began to glow, giving off a soft shade of red.

Look! He pointed.

She saw it. Gasped. Over there too!

They watched in awe and growing fear as the pungent smell in the air grew stronger, ripe and fetid, like food that had gone bad. Each one of the monolithic stones began to glow at their tops.

What's happening? Arabelle asked, backing against William. The first time she had touched him like that in what seemed like ages now. It was sad that it took a small fright to bring back some degree of intimacy once more. He was about to sigh when every single monolith lit up like a roman candle, their tops bursting forth with a brilliant red light high into the sky.

Look at that, will you. William cried out, not only stunned by the aerial display, but now getting more than a bit fearful. But he didn't let it show. He liked having Arabelle need him like now; even if only for a few moments.

Their relationship was so mercurial these days and any hint of the old Arabelle that came back kept him invested in her. He didn’t want what they had to wither and die. He loved her too much, despite all the stabs and gaping wounds that were being made from her frustration at times.

This can't be good. Arabelle stammered.

At that moment he couldn't have agreed more. He fell back alongside her, both of them withdrawing as the awesome, fear inducing display continued, growing more and more intense. It was like watching a bomb about to go off he thought.

But it didn't. It wasn't a bomb. It was something more frightening.

Look, look, look, look! He stammered, pointing to the clouds overhead. They had turned blood red and were boiling and swirling like masses of black charcoal suddenly lit with fire, and burning into life as they churned about each other.

It was a fire in the heavens.

Dear God! He gasped.

She fell back against him again. William!

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Neither of them could move. It was as if something had clasped their ankles and was anchoring them to their spots.

The skies opened up and a massive fist of red lightning struck the same monolith again. But this time the monolith was not struck alone. The lightning pounded the ancient monoliths again and again, relentlessly, causing the couple to fling themselves to the ground in terror.

William looked up, his eyes filled with both fear and awe. Maybe King Arthur is being raised by Merlin from his grave to rule our lands again.

She didn’t reply. He could hear her teeth chattering in terror.

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble from the violence of the down pouring. They had to fling arms across their faces to protect their eyes from the intensity of the lightning strikes.

The hair on their bodies began to rise up into the air.  Monolith after monolith was struck until all were smoking, their tops glowing red-hot.

A final series of lightning blasts struck and it was so intense it threw them from their feet. Then nothing. Just silence.

William lay on the hard ground, stunned a long time, then rolled over. Arabelle was looking at him. William, I thought you were dead.

He could see tears in her eyes.

She reached a hand to touch his face. I’m so sorry. So, so very sorry. I’ve been so mean to you.

I love you, he whispered.

I love you, she whispered back.

He might have kissed her at that moment. The magic of their feelings was so intense, but then an extremely powerful and new odor overwhelmed them. It was awful.

God! He gasped, choking on the smell. It smells like a charnel house.

How? She managed to squeeze out between wanting to breathe and wanting to gag at the same time. It's just stone! Just stone!

They sat up to look when the ground began to tremble violently again.

In the center of the monoliths the ground began to boil upwards, like a volcano forming.

William, I don’t want to be here anymore! She said, her voice shaking with terror.

He managed to get to his feet and give her a hand up.

Let's get out of here! He hollered at Arabelle.

For once she didn't argue.  She didn't complain. She just gave him a look like a frightened doe caught in the headlights of a car and ran.

He flung his backpack off to run more easily and she tore hers off. They gripped each other’s hand and ran down the slope, as the center of the ancient monoliths continued to boil upwards, spitting fire and smoke.

Top Secret Intervention

Twenty Years Ago

Captain Marshall Roman watched as his men worked during the night on the mound of Stonehenge. Tesla lamps lit the area brightly enough for the men to see what they were doing perfectly. Though the grounds were a disaster. Heaps of broken sod and earth were scattered everywhere. Some of it stone and quite hot still.

Captain! A soldier hollered.

He rushed over and looked at the object that the digging had exposed. It was metallic with some kind of see through plug in it made of a glasslike material, which wouldn't chip even when it an army issued knife was drawn across its face.

Nothing was visible because of some kind of swirling gas within the object. It was like looking into a cauldron of swirling paint. Unnatural colors turning about each other, clinging to each other and then running and smearing, continuously making new designs and patterns.

Gas bomb? Corporal Rogers ventured as he looked into the plug from his prone position across it.

The Captain shook his head. Not even the Germans make something that big. And look at that metal. The whole ground about it is almost molten slag, but the metal of this thing is untouched. No metal could survive that kind of temperature. And it's cold to the touch.

He felt the metal and shook his head. This is not likely any sort of device from around her.

No metal on earth anyway, hey Captain, Corporal Rogers added, the humor a weak attempt to overcome his growing fear of the strange object buried before them.

The Captain looked at him sternly. There'll be no more talk like that here, Corporal. Understand?

Yes, sir.

Corporal Rogers kept peering into the plug.  The smoke or whatever it is inside is clearing.

Several other soldiers came to look as well, their curiosity overriding their better sense when the Captain glared at them. But finally, even the Captain got on his knees and looked inside. His eyes widened.

It looks like some kind of...

Yes, sir. It does. The Corporal agreed. A bloody...

Then the haze inside the capsule cleared entirely.

Jesus, Mother Mary, God Almighty! The Captain erupted as he and the others jumped back from the view, hands reaching for weapons.

One of the soldiers lost it completely and backed up, stumbled to the ground, got back up, and then ran. Ran as if he had seen the devil.

Another suddenly began throwing up.

A third reached for his belt of grenades he always had on these kinds of missions.

The Captain jumped up and stopped the man from taking one off.

Do you realize what we've found?

The soldier eyed his Captain uncertainly and then shook his head. No. But I know when I've seen the devil. And sir, this is the devil.

The Captain shook his head.

He turned to the rest of his squadron and commanded. Let's open it up.

Then what? The soldier asked, his fingers still on the grenade belt.

Bury the whole thing. Forever! The Captain said. His face determined and unmovable.

Then the plug began to open without anyone touching it.

What the hell? A soldier cursed.

From hell, you mean, soldier. The Captain cried out.

The soldiers readied their weapons as the Captain gave the signal.

The plug suddenly exploded into the air, launching high over head, and then landing some yards away on the outside of Stonehenge.

Sergeant.

Sir! The Sergeant saluted the Captain. His face was like stone, not showing a single emotion.

Do what we came here to do.

Sir, I thought we were going to...

The Captain glared at him. This is no longer a burial and hide mission. Do your job!

The Sergeant saluted again. Sir! Yes, sir! Captain! He added with a bit of sarcasm.

The Captain ignored it, but it was noted.

The Sergeant nodded to several of his squad and they hurriedly unraveled rope ladders and threw them into the opening that had been made. The Sergeant took a Tesla lamp from the man on his left, then climbed onto the lip of the opening and stepped onto the top rung of one of the ladders and began descending.

The other two soldiers took the ladders on opposite sides and followed, pistols gripped in one hand as they descended.

Silence.

Sergeant! The Captain hollered into the opening.

Sir! Nothing. Can't see a blinking, damned thing. Whatever was lighting this thing up inside has gone off.

Any sign of danger come back immediately.

Sir, you won't have to tell me. I'll be right behind you.

The soldiers left about the Captain broke into nervous laughter.

Captain! The Sergeant hollered up.

Sergeant.

Something's wrong about this...

Silence.

Silence.

The Captain and his men all fell back as a massive block of flesh and blood hurtled from the opening, followed by two more.

The Captain paled.

Seal it off! Seal it off! He cried out to his men.

The soldier with the grenades grinned. My pleasure, sir!

He began pulling pins on his grenades, still stuck on his belt, until all were pulled, and then flung the whole belt into the opening.

Everyone dove for cover.

Then all hell broke loose!

Scotland Yard

20 Years Ago

Arabelle and William

Inspector Bloodstone, looking much lither and more muscled, with thicker red hair and beard entered the conference room where a young couple sat waiting, clenching each other’s hands nervously.

When they saw how big he was, both immediately jumped to their feet, as if rumors of him were true. That he beat prisoners.

He hated that rumor.

He never beat a prisoner.

Or tortured.

But the commoners seemed to find some pleasure in such fantasies, so he just sighed to himself unhappily and bore them out. Policemen were always popular when needed, but when not...

Not necessary, please do sit down.

They sat back down obediently and he nodded with satisfaction.

He took a chair on the opposing side of the table, folded his arms on its top and eyed them a moment thoughtfully.

The girl is pretty, but I know her parents. Society snobs. Amazing the young man could snag her.

He eyed the young man and then his fingers. An artist, no doubt, the only thing that might catch this young thing’s imagination, seeing as she probably didn’t have much of her own.

Sergeant Riley told me you two encountered something odd at the Henge? He asked.

We did! They both blurted out at the same time.

The boy looked at her and she nodded.

He looked at the Inspector. You have to believe us, sir; we would never have come here if it wasn’t important.

Inspector Bloodstone nodded, but inside he groaned. All the kooks always start off with, You’ve got to believe me.

Very well, he said after a long pause, which just made them all the more nervous.

The girl surprised him by putting her head for a moment on the lad’s shoulder and pressing his hand tightly, whether for her strength or his, he couldn’t tell, but it bode well for their relationship.

Maybe there was something there to them, he thought with amusement. Ah, young love, he sighed inwardly.

Very well, he repeated. Now, tell me what I don’t know and what I should right this moment.

That frightened both of them, but the boy bit his lower lip and evidently the braver of the two for the moment at least, leaned forward.

It was like this...

Nature Hike

20 Years Ago

Arabelle and William Whitaker were on a nature hike. They had been walking for hours and since they were close to the Stonehenge area, they decided to take the path that broke upon the small hill the monolithic stones were situated.

Small insects hummed, buzzed, bit, flew, swept past sometimes in tiny clouds, sometimes on swiftly moving gossamer wings, or puffs of color dotting their backs. Butterflies, moths, gnats, flies, beetles, wasps and bees were on their home grounds here.

Not us, thought William, as he swatted for the thirteenth time at a fly that kept insisting on perching atop the crown of his nose and crawl across his eyebrows as if seeking some kind of hidden treasure he had no idea of.

He swatted it away, missing as usual, and then realized he was falling behind again.

The brown earth of the path was firm, but easy on the feet. Some few rocks were there, but not enough to slow him down.

It was his own reluctance to even be on this nature hike that was slowing him down. And it was showing big time.

Hurry up. Arabelle hollered at William, who had bent over a flower to examine a beautiful butterfly that had landed on the soft white petals.

Look at this. He hollered back. Finally, something he could enjoy. He’d always loved butterflies. His first and only memory of himself as a baby was this huge butterfly with golden wings and beautiful blue spots landing on his chin and then cleaning itself.

Normally, a baby would cry out you’d think. Maybe startled and afraid. But he had not been. His mother had seen it but done nothing, waiting to see how he would respond.

Finally, he had.

He giggled, laughing as happily as any baby might who had just discovered the most wondrous thing of the world mounted on their face suddenly.

The butterfly, also acted less than normally. It had stayed on him, only balancing itself against his movement with tiny movements of its wings. It had swiveled about and focused an eye on him.

He could still remember looking into its perfect, beautiful black eye.

What? Arabelle had hollered again. Only this time she was right next to him.

He jerked upright.

Startled and angry.

Didn’t have to holler.

I didn’t... she began to holler, and then caught herself. She smiled. Sorry. What?

She was looking into his face studying him as was her nature to do. She saw him as such a baby when it came to nature, complaining and whining all the time. But when she saw the look on his face, she was hesitant to scold him as she might have.

Gently this time, she repeated, What?

That shocked him more than her that she was that gentle this time.

What? She asked for the fourth time, now starting to get a bit annoyed, yet still trying not to sound aggravated, but failing.

If he noticed it, he didn't say. Instead he pointed.

There!

She gave a sigh, and then looked the direction of his finger.

Just a butterfly.

Then she looked again, her eyes widening. It wasn’t just a butterfly. It was the Queen of Butterflies. It s wingspan was at least four inches and its back was colored a royal blue with white speckles painting it sides and wings as well.

It turned slightly, the weight of its body causing the flower it had landed on to wilt a bit to the left.

She put a hand to her mouth.

It hadn’t moved and yet she had stomped over here and had hollered...more than once.

She bent over and leaned closer. Its head swiveled a tad to examine her as her face neared it.

Quite a remarkable face it has.

It’s beautiful.

Yes, it is.

She straightened up, But if we stop for every miserable...

It’s not miserable.

Bug! She finished.

It’s not a... William said, then stopped himself and glared at her. She was doing it again. Pushing at him. Trying to get a response. Sometimes he quite disliked her for doing that. But for some inexplicable reason it made her feel good to do so."

It may be a bug, but at least it’s alive and not just a spread of old, dried up stones!

Stones don’t dry up, they age.

You’re not being very nice. I only came on this walk for you.

It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! She exclaimed. Now, satisfied?

That wasn’t very nice either.

It could have become a real brawl for a moment, but finally she relented and put a hand on his arm and squeezed it warmly. I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s so close to dark now and we have a long walk back. I’m tired. My feet are killing me and I’m starving."

He grinned. Never a winning combination, is it?

No, she replied, and then laughed.

She clasped her arms about him and kissed his nose lightly. Butterfly kiss. Forgive me?

He smiled. Ever so much.

She laughed again and then pushed him gently away.

We better hurry if we want to make it. The air’s changing. I can taste the extra moisture and you know how much it’s going to pour if that coming storm reaches us before we can make it to shelter.

As if to remind them both, the clouds overhead suddenly closed about the sun, enveloping the lay of the land in a sudden darkness. Then a strong series of gusts of wind smashed into t hem.

They staggered against it, holding onto each other.

That’s odd, she said.

Storms are always a bit odd, if you ask me, he said.

She nudged him lightly with a shoulder, t hen said. Need I remind you there's no shelter on the mound?

No. But a little water never killed anyone. He said, a twinkle in his brown eyes and a laugh on his lips, as he made light of the possibility.

She frowned at him. Really?

She turned about and began walking faster towards the monolithic stones that were looming above them. He sighed, shook his head, put his hands in his pockets, and hurried to catch up.

He just paused once to look back. The beautiful butterfly was still holding onto the flower petals, as if prepared to fight the storm from its small fortress of petals.

He wished it luck, and then hurried to catch up with Arabelle.  He watched her lovely figure as it strode up the curve of the hill towards the ancient stones. Sometimes, he felt as if his whole life was spent trying to catch up to her. She was the daughter, third born, of a Lord of the Court, and as such had more privileges than most.

To put it bluntly, she was filthy rich.

Why she had ever been attracted to a lowly candle maker, he couldn't say, but she was.

He still remembered the first day she had come into his shop and seen his works of art as she called them. Tall candles with minarets and towers, gothic windows and large gates closing the walls about the huge castle like walls of wax.

You’re a wizard! She had told him.

He had preened beneath her gaze and even more so as she smiled back at him. She was beautiful and reachable and she appreciated his art. Most just came in, bought his works, and then left without a word of praise. Just gifts that had to be gotten. Nothing more.

But she saw his art, his touch differently. She saw into the wax he formed. As if she could see in it, his very soul.

Ever since that first day, she had returned for first one, then another of his candles, until finally one day she had stomped her foot and stared at him hard.

When are you going to ask me out?

He had burst into laughter.

She had taken it wrong and fled the shop.

He felt like such an idiot then. It was certainly the wrong thing to do. But he was the shy sort and she had quite literally shocked him. And when he was shocked, he laughed.

He sat down, back to the door, moping over the big mistake he had made, when he heard the door open behind him.

He had jumped up, prepared to help a new customer, even though his eyes were still wet with tears.

She was standing there.

You big oaf, I love you!

She had run