Ancient Evil

OTHERS.

CHAPTER 1

AN ANCIENT EVIL

Elliot Worthington has a sick wife and a nine month old infant son. He is a senior guard at Newgate Prison, which is the predominant execution center for the entire city of London. It was1869, a time when prisons were impossibly over-filled. The death penalty was carried out for burglary, robbery and eighteen other offenses. London had just undergone a huge burst in prison construction and Newgate held the vilest of all its’ perpetrators.

Elliot’s daily life of facing and handling such dregs and despots was in stark contrast to his normal, happy life at home with his beautiful blonde wife Annabelle, and little son Jacob. Elliot was an executioner with a heart. His rank and status within Newgate was a high one. He was well-liked, but commanded respect from his fellow sub-level guards. He answered only to the warden himself. He frequently was the one sending people to their deaths.

This weighed heavy on him, but he had a family to support, so he quantified and qualified his actions, suppressing his guilt and pressed on. After all, they were bad men and women, weren’t they?

All was not well in Elliot’s world, though. After seeking the help from countless doctors, his wife’s fading health had continued to baffle London’s finest. Elliot had become desperate and frustrated at the callousness and lack of bedside manner from most of them. Not having an answer was bad enough, but them not caring made it all the more devastating. But on this day everything would change. Was it the fifth or the sixth physician they had seen that month? Elliot could not remember; the results were always the same.

After another routine disappointment, Elliot wrapped a comforting arm around his poor Anabelle as they left the doctor’s office. We’ll find the answer my love, I promise.

Elliot’s words were filled with doubt, but he tried his best to shroud his hopelessness. Anabelle did the same. I know my love, I know…cough. Lovers often lie to protect each other from such painful truths.

Just then, a short distance from the modest building they had just exited, a shadowy figure caught Elliot’s attention. He always kept his peripheral vision on high alert, being surrounded at work by constant potential harm. It was hard, if not impossible to sneak up on Elliot.

As they entered the alley way, Elliot spun quickly, grabbing this clandestine figure by the neck with force. Who are you?! Elliot was in no mood to be trifled with and his significant strength was fueled even more by his already rotten mood. He noticed this ratty robed figure was strangely dressed and was abnormally small in stature.

He began speaking with a heavy Arabic accent. Pardon me my friend. I am Azim and I see your wife has taken ill. I would surmise this physician has given you no more reason to have hope than the previous ones? Where are you from and how do you know of this? Elliot postured defensively, releasing the miniature man, now more curious than angry.

Azim ignored the question and continued on. What would you do, and to what lengths would you go to save your wife’s life, and to cure her of all her ills? Elliot replied, There is nothing I would not do, of course. He glanced back at his wife who had retreated to a safe distance. Nothing? The shrouded Azim asked. Out with it, what are you suggesting? Elliot lashed out frustrated and desperately impatient at the shoddy, troll-like little man, all the while trying to shroud the conversation from his wife.

We know who you are and what you do. We may be able to help one another. I am but a messenger, but the man at this location can most assuredly heal your wife, claimed Azim. This Azim person was definitely confident and persuasive thought Elliot.

Reaching in his coat pocket, Azim handed Elliot a piece of paper with writing on it. What looked to be a name, an address and a code word were handsomely scrawled. This is the master’s name, his location and a password.

I am familiar with this part of the city. Are you telling me I go there, say this word, and see a man named Allistar? Elliot clarified the exchange, struggling to pronounce the name on the paper. Yes, that is all. I can promise you it will be worth your effort. We have brought our medical sciences from Persian lands, to share them with the less fortunate here in London.

Azim’s smile was filled with mystery and mistrust. Elliot could read people quite well you see, trust was a luxury seldom afforded to people in dark alleys. Elliot simply nodded his head, uncomfortable with the encounter now, and carried off with his wife down the path. Azim shouted out we’ll be expecting you! Elliot said nothing but gripped his wife just a bit tighter. They quickly reached their carriage, where he loaded her in and sped off home.

On the way, Elliot pondered the baffling encounter, unable to shake the strange man and his words from his mind, no matter what the distraction.

That night his wife had taken a turn for the worse. It was the most severe set of symptoms yet, truly scaring Elliot. Fatigued and drained from caring for his Anabelle all night, Elliot struggled with a burning question. Should he follow Azim’s advice and pay a visit to this Allistar character?

As Annabelle continued to struggle through the night, the answer became very clear. He really had no other options left. Elliot felt he had nothing to lose, but his beloved. That lingering thought was unimaginable to him. She was his world, and he hers.

Elliot set out on this questionable quest in the cold, rainy morning, with heavy feelings of reluctance. Elliot was too street wise to be able to hold his instincts at bay. His gut told him this was a bad idea and he knew it, yet he had to at least investigate this proposal.

Why had they been watching him and what did he have to offer them? Many questions needed to be answered. It was all a mystery that he could not resist investigating. It had always been Elliot’s nature to push the envelope and do what he knew he should not, rejecting the possibility of failure and prevailing. This was no different.

Elliot concealed his pistol beneath his coat, just in case there were any surprises. He was wicked deadly with a firearm, and his position with the prison authority left him with the luxury to be able to operate it with lethal impunity.

He arrived at the address and approached the door. The location was in the city, yet the building was isolated in a ravine of sorts, quite off the main path and mostly discreet. He raised his hand to knock on the pedestrian looking door. Before his hand could reach the cold wood of the entrance, the peephole slid open and a voice beckoned. Who sent you? The piercing tanned eyes gleamed through the grate covering the small secured opening. I have come seeking medical aid for my wife. I was told to tell you the word, uh…Osiris?

Elliot was not sure if he pronounced it correctly and that rang true in the way he struggled to deliver it. The view port slammed shut and Elliot heard a series of locks being released. Do come in, the strangely dressed man said as he opened the door.

Elliot cautiously entered and scanned the surroundings. The chamber opened to reveal a large room. This led into a bigger chamber with a space that seemingly could not possibly fit inside what his mind had calculated from his visual survey from the outside of the building. It was filled with a strange glow, unlike anything he had seen before. There were only a few lamps burning. He marveled at how the luminescence of the light filled the room. His eyes were playing tricks on him, Elliot thought, as the contents of the environment shimmered and reflected light in a bizarre fashion.

It was disorienting. Decorated by strange glyphs and runes on the walls, foreign looking artifacts filled the room. A combination of tubes, beakers, and museum like statues were joined by paintings and diagrams that were hung in random placements.

You see my wife is very sick and I was told you may be able to help. If only… Elliot started in and was abruptly interrupted.

I am Allistar; let me first formally introduce myself before I explain to you what it is I do. Elliot let him cut in. It was always better to do as little talking as possible in these situations. He had learned this through all his years in dealing with the scandalous. I cure the sick, it is true, but my clientele, if you will call them that, are carefully selected, and my services come at a very high price.

Elliot suddenly felt pressed to clarify his finances. I have but only a prison guard’s salary to offer, it is not much but I can see if somehow…

Save your breath! I am aware of who you are, your position, and what it is you have access to. Allistar began going through an interrogation and inventory of Elliot. "You are an executioner as well as a guard at