The Hollows: A Midnight Gunn Novel Read online

  A Midnight Gunn Novel

  C.L. M onaghan

  Copyright © 2017 C.L. Monaghan

  All rights reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, uploaded or used in any manner whatsoever, without the express written permission of the author C.L. Monaghan

  Edited by Ewelina Rutyna

  Illustrations by Nigel Brewis

  Formatting and cover design by Bridgette O’Hare of Wit & Whimsy Design

  Books by C.L. Monaghan

  Adult Paranormal Romance

  Immaginario

  Upcoming Titles

  Adult Paranormal Romance

  Andato- book two of Immaginario

  Gothic Mystery

  Barghest: A Midnight Gunn Novel

  Historical Mystery

  Solomon’s Seal

  For Ednah

  London, November 20th, 1835

  Her screams rent through the air, cutting Josiah to his very core, every scream like a physical blow. She was in agony and had been for hours now, and there seemed to be no end to it. He continued to pace the corridor, listening for any sign it was over. The rhythmic thud of his footsteps were muffled by the thick wool rug and kept time with the ticking of the grand clock on the landing.

  The door swung open, spinning around in earnest, he looked hopeful but it was just the servant running past with yet another bowl of blood soaked rags. Josiah cursed and made toward the heavy oak panelled door to listen. Nothing but ragged moans and intermittent, exhausted screams reached him. How much more could she take?

  He returned to his pacing, noticing the natural light was dulling, it was almost time for the eclipse.

  “More light!” He heard the doctor yell, “I need more light dammit!” The housekeeper burst through door shouting instructions to whoever was listening to fetch candles and lanterns. Not for the first time did he wish he had installed gas lighting; waiting for candles wasted precious time. People rushed back and forth with hurried purpose, leaving him feeling utterly useless. It was his job to protect her and yet he could do nothing.

  Glancing nervously toward the large arched window atop the grand staircase, Josiah noticed the light had almost disappeared. Fretting that the doctor wouldn’t be able to see clearly enough to minimise any risk, his pacing halted abruptly. All had fallen silent behind the oak door. The rushing around of bodies had ceased, leaving him stranded in limbo in the lonely corridor of darkening shadows. He glanced again at the window, all traces of sunlight had disappeared, only an unearthly twilight remained. It was 10.30 in the morning and the grand clock rang out the half hour, its chime ominous, almost prophetic. As the last echoes of sound were swallowed by the strange and eerie half-light, a warbling cry pierced the air.

  The cry was his signal to move.

  “Congratulations Josiah, you have a son.” The doctor greeted him with a half-hearted congratulatory smile, he looked dishevelled and sweaty. The fire in the bedroom was raging and threw out an almost unbearable heat. The housekeeper shuffled off to the dressing room, cooing softly at a wriggling bundle of flesh and rags. Josiah looked toward his wife but was not prepared for the shock of it.

  “Is she even conscious?” He did not try to disguise the worry in his voice, she was his life and she lay in blood and tatters before him.

  “She’s exhausted Josiah, it was an extremely difficult birth. The baby was breech and she has lost a lot of blood.”

  “Will she recover?” He choked, afraid of the answer. The good doctor patted Josiah’s arm sympathetically,

  “She’s in the Lord’s hands now. All you can do is pray.”

  “And my son?”

  “He is well and whole, come and see.” The doctor indicated for Josiah to follow him to the dressing room but Josiah shook his head.

  “Not yet, I must tend to my wife first.” Anna, the chamber maid stood anxiously in the room, wringing her hands. Josiah waved her forward and she scurried over to him and bobbed a quick curtsey. “Fetch clean sheets and a fresh nightgown for your mistress…and a jug of honeyed water, she will be thirsty and the honey will restore her energy. Ask Daisy to come and help you change her.” Anna bobbed again and hurried out of the room, set on her master’s mission. Josiah turned back to his wife, placing his hand tenderly on her forehead, he swept away a strand of hair that clung to it and leaned in to kiss the spot his hand had just been.

  “We have a son my Josephine, do you hear that? A son! You must fight now, he will need you…we both will.” Josiah stood and nodded at the doctor, following him to his wife’s dressing room where Mrs. Henshaw, the housekeeper vigorously rubbed at the howling babe with fresh rags to clean him.

  “He’s a fair pair of lungs on him Sir, and a wriggler too,” she smiled, “I’m about to bathe him and swaddle him. Would you like to hold him first Sir?”

  “May I?” Josiah was uncertain what the correct procedure may be, this was his firstborn babe and he had no idea if it was permitted. Mrs. Henshaw chuckled,

  “No need to be asking permission from me Sir, he is your son.” Josiah glanced at the doctor,

  “Is it safe? He will not ail?”

  “Perfectly safe Josiah.”

  Mrs. Henshaw deftly wrapped the babe in a small sheet, his thick shock of black hair poking out, and handed the bundle to Josiah.

  “Now Sir, cradle him so…in the crook of your arm see? Hold his head up…that’s it.”

  “He is strong,” Josiah chuckled, “see how he wriggles!” Salty droplets of pride prickled the corner of his eyes. He hadn’t known such love was ever possible. The love he felt for his wife was as strong and heartfelt but that had been cultivated over time, the instant bonding of father and son took him completely by surprise and in that instant he knew he had found his life’s purpose.

  “Isn’t he beautiful Sir?” Mrs. Henshaw’s heart was lost already, Josiah could tell.

  “He will be loved indeed Mrs. Henshaw.” The sheet slipped a little from the babe’s head to reveal a thick mop of jet black hair, just like his own. He studied the wriggling, caterwauling child in detail. He had Josephine’s nose and look, but his brow and chin. He had yet to see the babe’s eyes because the child still cried but then he remembered his wife telling him that all babies were born with blue eyes and only changed colour as they grew.

  “He’s a special one indeed. I must bathe him now Sir, if you please?” Mrs. Henshaw held out her arms for the babe. “Has he a name yet Sir?”

  “No, Lady Gunn and I have made a list but I feel I should wait for her to decide.” Josiah said as he handed back his son.

  “Very well, Sir. I shall call him little master until then.” she said, smiling affectionately. She expertly cradled the little master in one arm after unravelling him from the sheet. A large ceramic bowl sat in readiness on the nightstand to bathe him in. Mrs. Henshaw dipped her elbow in the water to test the temperature and gently lowered the little plump, pink body in. The warm water instantly soothed and quieted him, his squealing changed to soft noises of contentment.

  “May I have a word?” the doctor asked and stepped to one side with Josiah. “Your son is healthy but I must advise you to find a wet nurse and fast. He will need nourishment and I fear your wife is too weak to accomplish the task.” Josiah nodded and called for Anna,

  “Her ladyship is all settled now, Sir.” Anna informed him.

  “Thank you, Anna. Now I must ask you to send word out for a wet nurse immediately; have you knowledge of where to find one?”

  “Yes Sir, Mrs. Henshaw has already given us a list of names, just in case you’d be needing one.”

  “Excellent, you may go then.” Josiah dismissed Anna who scurri
ed off to carry out her task. “What would I do without you Mrs. Henshaw?”

  “Not my first birthing your Lordship and probably not my last.” She said matter of factly, dipping a sponge into the water she began scrubbing at a spot on the little masters chest then gasped and stepped back a touch, almost letting the child slip from her gasp. “The merciful Lord no!”

  “What? What is it?” Josiah demanded, dashing to the bowl where his newborn son still gurgled contentedly. The doctor followed in haste, fearing some deformity he had missed in the stress of the birth and dim light.

  “He’s been marked Sir! I thought it was just dried blood but it wouldn’t scrub off, look here!” She pointed to a black mark on the left side of his son’s chest. Josiah squinted and leaned closer; it was hard to see in such dim light. Although the total eclipse had only lasted for four minutes, it was still in its dying throws and had not yet returned to full sunlight, only two candles burned in the dressing room.

  “No fear, it’s only a birth mark,” said the doctor a little too dismissively. Josiah studied it more closely. It was spine chillingly clear that this was no ordinary birthmark and he subconsciously crossed himself.

  Mrs. Henshaw whispered, “Is it the devils mark, Sir? Surely not for such a beautiful babe?”

  “No,” Josiah replied, the finality in his tone belying the tingle of fear and superstition that crept up his spine. “It is as the doctor says, just a birthmark…albeit an oddly shaped one,” he added.

  “As you say, Sir,” Mrs. Henshaw replied rather hesitantly and continued to bathe the boy dutifully.

  The daylight finally began to seep back in through the windows, masking the tinge of doubt that had marred the birth of his firstborn. The return of the bright sunshine and crisp November day radiated with hope for a new chapter in his life. Josiah breathed the light into his body.

  Hours passed and a wet nurse arrived, briefed on her duties by the ever organised Mrs. Henshaw, the little master now lay peacefully sleeping in his crib beside his ailing mother. Anna had brought him a tray of food and refreshing tea but it had tasted dry and bland in his mouth. He had no appetite while his beloved wife lay fretful and barely conscious, still unaware that she had produced a son and heir. The doctor had left with a prayer and instructions to keep Josephine warm and fed with honeyed water, and to send for him if anything changed. Daisy came in some time later to stoke the fire in the already stifling bedchamber and Josiah had relieved himself of all his clothing aside from his trousers and undershirt. He refused to leave his wife’s bedside until she awakened and so Anna had brought him a fresh shirt, neatly folded and placed on the chair for his convenience. They had left him alone for the most part, at his request and only disturbed him for necessities.

  It wasn’t until the clock struck 11.30pm did Josephine regain some lucidity and manage to speak

  “Josiah?” she croaked. He was by her side in an instant, his hand clasped hers.

  “Josie, you’re awake! Thank God,” he said, kissing her hand, “Do you feel better my love? Do you need anything?”

  “Thirsty,” was all she could manage. Josiah dutifully brought the honeyed water to her lips so she could drink. He replaced the cup and held her hand again, excited to tell her the news.

  “You did it, Josephine, we have a boy…and he is beautiful!” Again, he felt the tell-tale tears of pride. Josephine’s painfully pale face shone with hope and joy,

  “Let me see him.” She struggled to sit and Josiah helped her, propping her up with pillows. He carefully scooped up the sleeping baby and proudly handed his wife their son.

  “Oh Josiah, look! Look at him, he is perfect.” Joy radiated from her and she seemed to draw momentary strength from the presence of the babe in her arms.

  They sat together for a few precious moments, despite his wife’s weakened state she petted and cooed over her son with trembling hands and shaking voice.

  “What shall we name him my love? I waited for you so we could choose together.” Josephine smiled weakly at her husband in gratitude for his considerate gesture.

  “Something grand,” she whispered.

  “He is certainly deserving of grandeur, he arrived in such an extraordinary manner.” Josephine sighed heavily, her eyelids fluttering. A sheen of sweat clung to her clammy skin. Josiah felt her forehead, she was feverish.

  “Anna!” The chambermaid came running.

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Send for the doctor, now!” Anna didn’t bother to curtsey, acknowledging the urgency of the request, she shot from the room calling loudly for the footman.

  “Josiah…open the window…please?”

  “The doctor advised you be kept warm, dearest…”

  “Please, Josiah. I want to see it.” Josiah was momentarily baffled but carried out his wife’s wish, drawing back the heavy curtains the night sky revealed itself to them both. That’s when he saw it, the bright tailed light in the clear black, and November sky - Hayley’s comet. “The window.” Josephine said, Josiah unlocked the latch and threw open the window, the last barrier between them and the chill air.

  “It’s beautiful,” Josephine declared. Josiah had to agree. What an extraordinary day it had been. Their son had been born at the height of a solar eclipse and on the very same day Hayley’s comet blazed a trail through the sky. Josiah had to wonder if it were a beacon of hope or an omen of tragedy.

  The grand clock began to strike the first of 12 chimes to ring in the new day. The sheer celestial majesty of it all almost overcame him and Josiah grasped the window ledge, leaning out he breathed in deeply the crisp, chill air, filling his lungs and ridding himself of the stagnant heat of the bedroom.

  “What shall we name him?” he asked again, returning to his wife’s bedside. Josephine’s hold on her son had weakened and she struggled to keep him from slipping down the bedcovers. Josiah, rather than remove their son from her arms, held him in place for her so that she may cradle him longer. The grand clock struck twelve.

  “Midnight.” Josephine’s answer came swift and sure, with one last fighting breath to be strong for her son.

  “Midnight it shall be then.” Josiah’s voice broke and he let the tears fall as his beloved wife slipped away, gracefully and peacefully still cradling her sleeping babe.

  “Gunn’s here, Sir,” Constable Rowe whispered in his superior’s ear. Detective Inspector Arthur Gredge gave a slight nod in acknowledgment and cleared his throat.

  “Right, let’s have this area cleared!” He shouted and two of the Southwark bobbies started ushering away the crowd of locals that had gathered at the scene. Gredge waited until he and Rowe were alone.

  “Fetch him in…and make sure no one sees him and no one comes near.” Rowe nodded and slipped off to carry out his superior’s instructions. Smoothing down his moustache, Arthur looked over the scene while he waited. The small enclosed alley off Blackfriars Road was dank and dark, it reeked of piss and vomit where drunken revellers had relieved themselves. Dumped in the corner, grotesquely arranged in the great piles of filth and rubbish, with only the rats for company, was the body of Miss Emeline Rowbotham. This one was a body; he had checked for a pulse and there was none. The others were still alive…sort of; Miss Rowbotham was victim number eight. Arthur was convinced the cases were all linked but there were a few differences that made this case stand out; this victim was dead, this victim was from a prominent family and this time…there was a witness.

  Arthur shivered unintentionally. The shadows in the alley seemed to spread, growing blacker by the second. He turned towards the alley entrance which now looked like a big black hole. He heard no footsteps, the shadows seemed to swallow the sound.

  “Detective Inspector Gredge, we really should stop meeting like this, people will talk,” came the droll and alarmingly close voice through the darkness.

  “Jesus Midnight, I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Did I make your heart flutter? I am flattered.”

  “Funny,” Ar
thur rolled his eyes. “I was going to ask if anyone saw you but seeing as I can’t rightly see my own hand in front of my face at present.” He left the statement open, knowing Midnight would understand his meaning. A low chuckle reverberated off the brick walls.

  “You did tell the constable to make sure no one saw me enter so…”

  “You don’t think that crowd would notice a bloody great dark shadow appearing from nowhere?”

  “You’d be surprised what people let slip past their conscious minds Arthur, they’ll most likely pass it off as a trick of the light, a cloud covering the moon…I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  The darkness receded a little to reveal the imposing hooded figure of the man Arthur knew as Midnight Gunn. Arthur had been acquainted with Midnight for a few years now but he only called upon him when it was necessary. Midnight mostly liked to be left alone although Arthur often got the eerie feeling that he was around, lurking in the shadows, keeping his ear to the ground. It never seemed to take him long to arrive when he called for him.

  “So, I take it there is a reason you asked me to come?” Midnight said.

  “Body, in the corner there,” Arthur pointed. “Miss Emeline Rowbotham, reported missing by her family earlier this evening, found about an hour ago by someone taking a leak…he also happens to be witness to the act too. Stroke of luck on that point,” he added, “although I’m not sure how reliable he is, blind drunk and blathering on about…well, you’ll no doubt see when you do your thing.” Arthur cringed. That was a mistake and he knew it immediately. Midnight hated it when he openly referred to his special skill. He risked a glance at his colleague and wished he hadn’t. Midnight’s ice blue eyes blazed with anger and the shadows began to creep back into the alley. “Look, I didn’t bloody mean to…you know, mention it…I just...”