Bright spirits "You have to remember," said the Ghost pleasantly, "that the old religions were more direct. Abraham was instructed to sacrifice his son and he didn't hesitate to try and carry it out. If you read the texts from far enough back you can see that there was no regret in making that sacrifice, it was understood to be necessary. And so here, sacrifices are necessary to generate the bright, spiritual energy that makes it a prison for the likes of me, and the other archetypes of the tarot deck." He pushed David through the door with a hand that was startlingly cold; for the first time David reflected on why the Ghost was called a ghost. He stumbled over the threshold and nearly tripped over Tristram, who was crouching down with his knees nearly touching the floor and a pool of beige-yellow vomit nearby. David picked his feet up and almost danced aside, out of the way, and then the scene in the church sank in. Tall metal cylindrical vats rose from the floor to the ceiling, which was so far above him that it was too dark to make it out. The vats were filled with greenish-blue liquid, a soft turquoise that might have been beautiful if it weren't for the half-human things floating in there. As he stared, awed, something with the head and shoulders of a woman and the body of a lobster swam near him in the closest tank and claw tapped at the glass. The sound was loud, sharp and frightening; David took a step back in case the tank broke. The woman's face distorted with rage and she clawed at the glass again, and again, each time the sound getting louder and more worrying. A black tongue as long as her arm snaked out of her mouth and lashed angrily at the glass as well making a grinding sound, and David realised that there must be teeth on the end of it. Metal procrustean beds were set across the floor leading from the centre to one side, and there were both people and things strapped down on stained, ancient-looking mattresses. Some were bound with leather straps, some with ropes, and some with chains of various metals. The leather straps had fish-hooks on them; the ropes were bound around with barbed wire, and the chains were engraved with symbols that seemed to flicker in the darkness. Opposite the beds there were two large aquaria filled with something blackish red, fed it by snaking tubes that came down from the ceiling. David swallowed, hoping that this wouldn't turn out to be blood since the size of it would mean that someone must have slaughtered an army of cattle or pigs, and then he noticed the white bones that bobbed out of the top of the tank. The tank sloshed and the bones clattered over the side and bounced on the floor. A moment later something the size of a rat with the face of an old man, as many legs as a centipede and spider-like arms wreathed around its body scuttled out and seized a bone, dragging it back to whatever lair it lived in.
The only smell in the air was the ocean-sharp scent of ozone, but as he moved David felt greasy, as though the air was somehow saturated with oil that deposited on his skin as it touched him. "This is the hall of bright spirits," said the Ghost. "For the moment I have granted you both the gift of anosmia, something that Tristram has gifted so many times himself in the past. It will not last, the magic in here is the magic I use and it is controlled by minds stronger than mine. My body is... is..." he turned, stretching out a hand as though feeling for invisible guide-lines, "is... downstairs. They have placed me in the crypt with the pseudo-reindeer." "The smell was awful," said Tristram. He was swallowing hard, trying to get his stomach back under control. "It practically assaulted me, forced itself on me and made me breathe it. It was like being raped." "You would know," murmured the Ghost, but neither man seemed to hear him. "What was that about anosmia?" asked David. "He means the time we cut the noses of the kids in that school," said Tristram. "The ones that wouldn't tell us where Nick the Badger was hiding. Remember? We sent them out to their parents in gift bags with the namebadges on." "Yeah," said David, suddenly cold and wanting to squirm. He put his hand to his face and was relieved to find his nose still there. "Let's get this done and get out of here." "Great plan," said the Ghost. "The mermaids aren't actually locked in their cylinders; they will eventually climb out to greet you."
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Bright spirits
"You have to remember," said the Ghost pleasantly, "that the old religions were more direct. Abraham was instructed to sacrifice his son and he didn't hesitate to try and carry it out. If you read the texts from far enough back you can see that there was no regret in making that sacrifice, it was understood to be necessary. And so here, sacrifices are necessary to generate the bright, spiritual energy that makes it a prison for the likes of me, and the other archetypes of the tarot deck." He pushed David through the door with a hand that was startlingly cold; for the first time David reflected on why the Ghost was called a ghost. He stumbled over the threshold and nearly tripped over Tristram, who was crouching down with his knees nearly touching the floor and a pool of beige-yellow vomit nearby. David picked his feet up and almost danced aside, out of the way, and then the scene in the church sank in.
Tall metal cylindrical vats rose from the floor to the ceiling, which was so far above him that it was too dark to make it out. The vats were filled with greenish-blue liquid, a soft turquoise that might have been beautiful if it weren't for the half-human things floating in there. As he stared, awed, something with the head and shoulders of a woman and the body of a lobster swam near him in the closest tank and claw tapped at the glass. The sound was loud, sharp and frightening; David took a step back in case the tank broke. The woman's face distorted with rage and she clawed at the glass again, and again, each time the sound getting louder and more worrying. A black tongue as long as her arm snaked out of her mouth and lashed angrily at the glass as well making a grinding sound, and David realised that there must be teeth on the end of it.
Metal procrustean beds were set across the floor leading from the centre to one side, and there were both people and things strapped down on stained, ancient-looking mattresses. Some were bound with leather straps, some with ropes, and some with chains of various metals. The leather straps had fish-hooks on them; the ropes were bound around with barbed wire, and the chains were engraved with symbols that seemed to flicker in the darkness.
Opposite the beds there were two large aquaria filled with something blackish red, fed it by snaking tubes that came down from the ceiling. David swallowed, hoping that this wouldn't turn out to be blood since the size of it would mean that someone must have slaughtered an army of cattle or pigs, and then he noticed the white bones that bobbed out of the top of the tank. The tank sloshed and the bones clattered over the side and bounced on the floor. A moment later something the size of a rat with the face of an old man, as many legs as a centipede and spider-like arms wreathed around its body scuttled out and seized a bone, dragging it back to whatever lair it lived in.
The only smell in the air was the ocean-sharp scent of ozone, but as he moved David felt greasy, as though the air was somehow saturated with oil that deposited on his skin as it touched him.
"This is the hall of bright spirits," said the Ghost. "For the moment I have granted you both the gift of anosmia, something that Tristram has gifted so many times himself in the past. It will not last, the magic in here is the magic I use and it is controlled by minds stronger than mine. My body is... is..." he turned, stretching out a hand as though feeling for invisible guide-lines, "is... downstairs. They have placed me in the crypt with the pseudo-reindeer."
"The smell was awful," said Tristram. He was swallowing hard, trying to get his stomach back under control. "It practically assaulted me, forced itself on me and made me breathe it. It was like being raped."
"You would know," murmured the Ghost, but neither man seemed to hear him.
"What was that about anosmia?" asked David.
"He means the time we cut the noses of the kids in that school," said Tristram. "The ones that wouldn't tell us where Nick the Badger was hiding. Remember? We sent them out to their parents in gift bags with the namebadges on."
"Yeah," said David, suddenly cold and wanting to squirm. He put his hand to his face and was relieved to find his nose still there. "Let's get this done and get out of here."
"Great plan," said the Ghost. "The mermaids aren't actually locked in their cylinders; they will eventually climb out to greet you."
Greg - delightfully horrifying descriptions abound here. And... I don't think they want to meet those mermaids, so I do hope they manage to hurry.
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