The Map of Chaos (Trilogía Victoriana #3)(36)
In a corner of the room, shrouded in the reddish half-light, stood the motionless figure of a man. He was clad in a dark suit, torn in places, beneath which a powerful body was visible. Due to the distance, and the opaque gloom, Clayton could only just make out a coarsely featured face, crowned by a pair of wild eyes, and underscored by a powerful chin covered in an unkempt beard. But besides his appearance, there was something else about the man that startled the inspector: his figure appeared not to possess the luminous, vaporous quality attributed to spirits, but rather seemed perfectly outlined and consistent, as if he were made of the same stuff as any normal human being, except in one respect: he was transparent. The man’s body, although it gave the impression of being solid flesh and blood, seemed to let the light through, or in this case the semidarkness.
The supposed spirit did not say or do anything. His posture oozed menace, and his eyes glinted with an almost inhuman hatred. Clayton contemplated him with growing astonishment, then wheeled round to look at Madame Amber, who was quaking in her chair, her mouth open in a soundless cry of terror. Without knowing why, Clayton sensed this time that her emotion was genuine. The rest of the group was also staring toward the corner, without daring to rise from the table. They all appeared visibly alarmed by the apparition, but above all by the dense atmosphere of impending doom. Then Clayton noticed Mrs. Lansbury. Like the others, the old lady was contemplating the looming figure with terror, yet her eyes betrayed something different, something that looked like defiance.
“You! It’s you!” the apparition suddenly bellowed, shaking with anger and pointing at one of the people at the table, arm outstretched.
They all looked at one another, scared and confused, trying to discover whom his words were intended for, all except Madame Amber and Mrs. Lansbury, who kept on staring intently at the stranger.
“I’ve found you! At last, I’ve found you! And this time you’ll give me what is mine!” roared the apparition, his words giving way to a bloodcurdling howl.
His rage was so intense it twisted his mouth into a hideous snarl, like a ferocious gargoyle, through which, absurdly, the pattern of the wallpaper was visible. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, the diminutive Mrs. Lansbury stood up from her chair and confronted the figure, with only her trembling dignity as protection.
From then on, events took place at breakneck speed. The stranger yelled a curse and instantly charged at the group, flying past Clayton, who received a sharp blow to the shoulder. Then he leapt onto the table and hurled himself at poor Mrs. Lansbury, who had no time to escape. Everyone jumped to his or her feet, no longer worried about disturbing the sawdust. Some screamed, others uttered words of disbelief. Madame Amber flung herself to the floor and began crawling toward the Japanese screen. Clayton and Sinclair grabbed hold of the stranger, who had managed to seize the old lady by the throat. However, with an astonishing display of agility, the man jerked his head back violently, hitting the captain square on the nose. Sinclair fell to the floor, tracing a bloody arc that spurted from the middle of his face and dragging Clayton along with him. No sooner had the inspector landed on the floor than he leapt back to his feet, looking around for his gun, which had slipped from his hand. But he realized instantly there was no time for that: Mrs. Lansbury’s life was ebbing through her assailant’s powerful fingers, and so he hurled himself once more at the apparition. He managed to grip the phantom’s powerful neck in a lock, hoping to force him to release his prey. Glimpsing his own arms through the body he was trying to overpower, which felt completely normal to the touch, startled him momentarily, but he quickly tightened his hold again. However, despite straining every muscle in his body, and no doubt inflicting great pain as he dug his metal hand hard into that transparent throat, the stranger seemed to possess the invincible strength of a madman, and the inspector could not make him release his deadly grip on the old lady’s throat. Her face was turning purple, and there was nothing else he could do. The man was going to kill her before Clayton’s eyes.
Then he heard a voice behind him cry out: “Get down, Inspector!”
Glancing over his shoulder, Clayton saw Colonel Garrick aiming a pistol at him. He instantly flung himself to the floor. He heard a shot ring out and saw the old lady’s frail, seemingly lifeless body slump in front of him.
Then someone switched on the lights. Clayton hurriedly leaned over Mrs. Lansbury. To his relief, he discovered she was still breathing and did not seem to be seriously injured. He sprang to his feet, crashing into Nurse Jones, who had come to their aid.
“Try to resuscitate her!” he commanded.
Nurse Jones nodded and called out in a quavering voice to Doctor Ramsey, who was standing quietly in a corner, furiously jotting in a tiny book. Clayton looked anxiously around for the apparition. He saw a dazed Captain Sinclair, his face caked in blood, struggling to his feet with the aid of Burke and Crookes, who were holding him by both arms. The Hollands were clasping each other, both pale faced, close to swooning, although Mrs. Holland seemed to be the one holding her husband up so that he wouldn’t collapse. From the other side of the table, Count Duggan was waving his arms frantically in the air, gesturing toward the screen, in front of which Colonel Garrick was resolutely brandishing his still-smoking gun. Clayton ran over to him, catching the pistol Sinclair threw as he hurtled past. He reached the colonel, who looked at him with a frown.
“I think the fellow’s hiding behind there!” he whispered, nodding at the screen.