October 2, 1870 - 4:41 am
I waste no time writing this account. Colin and I convened with Stripe at the usual intersection. Of course, Stripe was angry. He contested bringing Colin along. I maintained my trust in the boy, but Stripe was faithful to his convictions. Soon, Julian arrived,
"Come!" he urged. "There are more intruders!"
And we set forth towards the warehouse.
A squadron of men was patiently waiting for us outside the warehouse doors. Among them were Wernicke, Dogge, Long, and L'Escale. Stripe ordered me to stay near him, but for Colin to remain at the front doors. Meanwhile, Wernicke was instructed to poach the mezzanine.
"Keep in mind, gentlemen," Julian said. "The weapons you may encounter are not of this world. Be cautious."
And with that, we proceeded forward.
Inside, the dark towering machinery and hull fragments loomed over us like black canyon walls. Stripe escorted us through the labyrinth, while atop, I saw Wernicke and his men shuffling with cunning agility. Our rifles and pistols were already cocked. We approached the arsenal. I was barely able to look inside before those damned ethereal voices scrambled my wits! I fell over in agony. Julian caught me and tended to my pain. Then a thunderous boom roared over the laboratory. I looked up and watched the glow from the explosion waver across the floor, painting a landscape jagged with steel teeth. It was terrifying. Comparable to Dante's most absurd visions.
I pulled myself and looked into the arsenal window. There he stood. The Razor-Claw... a beastly man who gripped the emerald in his immense steel clutches. And there was someone else beside him. A tall, thin, youthful man of about my height. He wore a uniform, and he knelt at the Razor-Claw's feet. He rested his hand on the young man's shoulder.
"A brave new world is upon us," he said with a deep, fanatical voice. "If we are to embrace our potential then we must venture into the void."
The voices were stinging.
"I can end it all now," Stripe said, aiming the gun at the Razor-Claw's head.
"Stand down," Julian said. His eyes were on Wernicke. "Once Nicholas is in place, we go in. He is no use to us dead. We need him to understand the conspiracy."
The Razor-Claw continued. "I can manifest your most intimate dreams, and inflict your most perverse nightmares onto your enemies. All I ask is for your loyalty to the empire."
The young man quivered. "I pledge my loyalty to you, Grandmaster," he said on the brink of tears.
Then a sharp ring in my head! The ethereal voices dissipated. A horrible scream slithered out of the emerald. "Inquisitoribus! Caedite eos! Caedite omnes eos!" Meaning, "Inquisitors! Kill them! Kill them all!"
Bullets erupted—it was utter madness. Everyone was blindly firing at shadows, or so it seemed. Julian disappeared. Stripe was screaming for reinforcements. I found myself running for the doors. When I looked back, I saw something engaging us. The lightning outside allowed me to gather a quick glimmer at our pursuer... a dark, misty plume that propelled at us with great speed and ferocity. It roared with fury! Wernicke fired bullet after bullet from his perch, but they all went straight through.
"Fire at will!" Dogge cried out.
The mezzanine was a hailstorm of gunfire. For a moment the plume stopped, spinning around into a vortex. Then it burst into a fountain of black powder before vanishing. Julian flipped on the lights. Our intruders, including that horrible plume, were gone. The emerald was still with us. I wrapped myself in a wool blanket and rested in Julian's office.
"I had the shot, Charles!" Stripe shouted.
"I know, Thomas! I know! We need him alive if we are to understand the extent of this conspiracy!"
"I could have killed him; I could have shot him in the leg, crippled him, or something!"
"If we murdered someone to-night, then it would only be a matter of time before the project is exposed. They would have dismissed us, moved it elsewhere, and the conspiracy would transpire without delay. We have to consider every move we make as critical and rational. Even if that means sacrificing a good shot."
"Charles," Julian insisted.
"Something evil rests in the emerald—something living, breathing, and hostile. The Razor-Claw has spoken to it before. If we are unable to find this Adam fellow, then we will have no choice but to confide in him."
"Don't be stupid, Charles. You think a man like that will just give up his knowledge?" Stripe scoffed.
"We have no choice! I have no choice! This evil is beyond perception! Do you think a war with that thing we saw will be fought with guns and boats? We are minuscule compared to that thing! And when the world is about burn, I am confident the Razor-Claw will understand his mortality in all this. Do you not understand; I need this!"
"Then you are doomed to repeat your faults," Stripe coldly declared.
"It is a gamble, I know. We must find Adam. If we do, we can win this."
"I will inform the committee, but only vaguely," Julian resolved. "Their involvement is inevitable, but perhaps I can postpone it a while longer. We are playing a game where contestants are spared no mercy and denied nobility for their sacrifices. These men will not be brought to justice if we kill ourselves in pursuing them."
"We just need time to find Adam," I said.
Stripe seized his coat, and charged the door. "I hope to god you know what you are doing," he muttered before slamming the door shut.
I felt miserable and dejected. "What should I do?" I asked Julian.
"That is a question only you can answer. Not me. I know why you have embarked on this foolhardy crusade, and it is very foolhardy... but honest." He quietly made for the door. "I entrust the sword to you, Charles. Please watch over it," he smiled.
I quickly stiffened. "The other day, Julian... I saw a book on your desk. Timaeus."
"Yes! Were you the one who gifted it?"
"No... I wanted to know how you came across it."
"I found it at the foot of my door one morning."
I reclined deeper into the couch. "I was curious is all."
Julian left to prepare for the morning, but I stayed in his office for a few moments, pouring over the vast volumes of mythological texts strewn across his desk. Beneath his lamp, on the edge of the counter, was Timaeus. I fingered through it. A small reprint of Abraham Ortelius' Theatre of the World leaped out at me. It was printed on a series of fold-out pages. There were pen marks to indicate a series of odd but precise locations across the world. I saw no correlation between them, nor was there a noticeable mathematical archetype denoting their coordinates. They were entirely randomized, but I took the liberty of transcribing their locations down.
The first location is between the cities of Cusco and Arica, near the Andes mountain range in Peru.
The second location is marked as the hub of the Yucatan Peninsula.
The third location is a small island off the coast of western Ireland, marked as Brazil.
The fourth location is between the cities of Mina and Sierra Leone, along the African drift.
The fifth locale is somewhere in Italy, possibly Rome or Naples.
The sixth location is southward from Wien in Austria.
And lastly, the seventh location is placed, rather obscurely, in the axis of central China.
12:15 pm
To-day has been very lethargic for me. I felt the dark, puffy crescents beneath my eyes, and my eyelids hung with the weight of iron ingots. It was a miracle I could even focus at all. Sometime before noon, however, Stripe stepped into my office to speak with me.
"I want to apologize for my behavior," he said. "I am not myself lately, and this situation is rendering me ill at ease."
This was, perhaps, a rare glimpse of the sincerity that hid beneath his mask of shrewd, austere authority. I saw this rare display only once... on that unfortunate evening at Yellow Tavern.
"It is all right, my friend. Really. Any ordinary man would have lost his mind days ago. I know my reasons are personal, but I am so deeply drawn to the emerald. My thirst for unlocking its wonders is maddening."
"What do you mean?"
"I need the emerald," I admitted. "The sword is just a weapon... a conduit... but the emerald is the reward. From the moment I touched it, I was bound to it."
"Spiritually?"
"And physically I fear."
"The sooner we apprehend these intruders, the sooner we can end this nightmare," Stripe resolved.
"Maybe."
"Nonsense! This morning at the summit, I happened to stroll into the office of one of the committee members."
"Stroll? Perhaps more to the effect of intrusion," I joked.
"Reconnaissance, Charles," he leered. "Fellow by the name of Eli Braxton; a former Confederate industrialist. I found a telegram concerned with the transportation of certain merchandise."
"Merchandise?" I asked. "Swat?"
Stripe nodded. "They infiltrated our project from the moment of its inception. The telegram detailed a congregation between Mr. Braxton and his informant this evening. I have already instructed Dogge and Wernicke to attend this meeting whilst you and I break into Mr. Braxton's office."
"Is Julian privy to this?"
"He authorized it."
"And I suppose you believe this informant is the Razor-Claw."
"Undoubtedly." Stripe lingered by the door and sternly glared at me. "You are not to involve the boy in any of this."
I confronted Colin about all this, and he was not pleased.
"Remove myself?" he loudly asked. "With everything that has happened, sir, I cannot just remove myself! I must know what you know; I am too involved!"
"I do not have answers!" I yelled back. "This is not a crusade bound by natural science; we are dealing with something far more horrifying and unnatural. You can be killed!"
"Whether you accept it or not, I am involved, sir."
"A spy is among us. The threat is greater than we imagined."
"What are you saying?" he hissed.
"Until we can either understand or rectify
this situation, I cannot trust you. Or anyone."
"I took the same oath as you for this project," he said. "I will not idle if evil is stirring. If you do not accept my aid on these endeavors, then so be it, but I request you treat me as a partner rather than a suspect." He drew a deep breath. "If this is a war, then you need allies. Just consider it."
"Stripe is uneasy with your involvement. As of now, I cannot risk having you accompany any further excursions. You will still play a vital role in this project, but for the time being, you will work with me here at the laboratory until such a time when your commitment is accepted."
Colin was still bothered, but he understood the plight.
"Thank you, Colin. You are a good friend to have."
7:10 pm
I investigated the floor where our mysterious, murky specter pursued us. Since the plume appeared mauve and smoky, I suspected its composition would be akin to ash or gunpowder, and perhaps dye. I am reminded of the Mount Vesuvius eruption from two years ago, and the descriptions of ash columns piercing the sky. The plume here moved fluidly like ink dispelled in a vile of water. I knew there had to be residue somewhere, and indeed there was along the bottom of the arsenal door frame. By then, it had condensed into a thick, sticky, globular plaque, and the odor invoked faint sulfur.
"We found this residue under the craft's hull," I lied to one of our chemists. "See what you can find out about it."
Study resumed on the staff. What follows is the best testimony I can describe. In the words so appropriately uttered by one of my colleagues, "It was biblical."
Our objective was to re-enable the gaseous orbs over the staff's heads. We produced small bursts of electrical discharge, but nothing sufficient enough for study. That was until I was given the staff. I gripped the dowel and felt a cold heave shoot through my body. The gaseous orbs quickly materialized—pulsating and shining so brightly, we could no longer look at them. A purple, viscous, electrical matter sprayed out of the staff's heads, accumulating into a burning pool. Lavender rays boomed as thunderclaps erupted from the heads, igniting the trees around us like matchsticks!
I could not keep a firm grip on the staff, and fearing my thoughts might not be enough to curtail the weapon, I drove it into the ground. Branches of hot electrical fire surged through the topsoil in a vast network of dazzling tendrils. Water droplets lifted from the ground, and formed a columnar vortex that curled around the staff. I noticed my belt buckle writhing at the staff.
We were standing on the threshold of a magnetic wonderment! The staff, endowed with such a tremendous negative current, magnetized the groundwater enough to form a vortex of droplets. Then, it stopped, and the water fell.
"These weapons are not simply ethereal, they are quite plainly the weapons of the ancient gods," von Schlemmer declared, drying himself off in Julian's office.
"That is a lofty claim," Julian said.
"Lofty, yes! But true! The craft predates Mesopotamia! These weapons, and their handlers; must be the progeny of all ancient creeds. The staff; Poseidon's trident. The hammer; Thor's hammer. The extinguisher; the chariot of Helios."
"And the sword?" I asked.
"The sword in the stone."
"What would you have me do, doctor?" Julian asked.
"The committee wishes to use the weapons, correct? Then you must stop them!"
Julian leaned forward, throwing his large arms onto the desk. He was thinking. "The committee will be present to-morrow to assess our progress. I urge the both of you to express your concerns, and I will gladly stand by whatever the two of you think best."
The afternoon closed rather uneventfully, and everyone was dismissed on schedule, but I wanted to talk to Julian.
"I know you are burdened by all this," I admitted. "I just want you to know that—"
"Do you remember when Jules found me, Charles? I was dirty, vile, covered in mud, and scared half to death. When you see me behind this desk, would you ever for a moment consider I once lived on the streets? No, not at all. I am here because of your brother. He offered me deliverance." He snickered and leaned back. "Despite your initial disapproval."
I laughed. "I was not trusting of anyone then, especially a former Confederate. But I was wrong. You proved to be a brilliant assistant. One who... consoled me after everything fell apart."
"I have been anticipating this moment my whole life, Charles. The opportunity to prove my worth... to prove our worth. I want us to have a second chance; something Jules gave me. We are only human... so eagerly seduced by sin, but technology will deliver us from sin. Think about the miracles we can perform with these weapons; the steps we can forge for the benefit of science and exploration."
"Consider the destruction they could inflict," I countered.
"Which is why I subscribe to your grievance, but it pains me to sacrifice our only opportunity at salvation."
"I assure you, there will always be another chance, Julian. You are a good man. I refused to acknowledge it then, but I see it now clearer than ever."
He smiled. "Even now, as you stand behind my desk, you continue to impart your wisdom on me. Please be careful to-night, Charles."
"I shall."
The evening is now upon me, and time dwindles. Minutes ago, I received a knock on my office door, and when I opened it, Dr. Philby stood in the hallway with the residue analysis.
"There are multiple components here: water, carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulfide, sodium, methane, and hydrogen. There are trace amounts of mercury, nitrogen oxide, and bromine."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Volcanic gas, or more precisely, the deposit of volcanic gas. Mephitis, I would wager."
"Secure the sample in your office, please."
He did, and I ran out to catch Colin before he hopped in his cab.
"Colin!" I yelled. "Please, if you can, stop by my tenement this evening at nine. I need you to do something for me that is of grave importance."
"Sure, anything."
"And you must not worry. What I request from you is no more difficult than holding on to a pocket watch."
And with that, I wait.