The Midnight Front--A Dark Arts Novel Read online

  Cade got out of the car. Muggy heat pungent with the stink of low tide made him miss the car’s air of clean leather and sweet pipe tobacco.

  His father shook Sutton’s hand. “I’m sorry I can’t offer more than a week’s severance, after all the years of service you’ve given us.”

  Sutton waved away the sentiment. “It’s nothing, Mr. Martin.”

  “I disagree.” Cade’s father handed the driver a folded slip of paper. “The car’s title. I’ve signed it over to you. Call it a parting gift.”

  “Most generous, sir,” Sutton said, with strong emotion in his voice. “I’ll keep it in good order until you return.” He tipped his cap at Cade. “Safe travels, young master.”

  Cade waved good-bye to Sutton, then was guided away by his parents, across the dock and up the gangplank of the steamship Athenia.

  A steward with callused hands and an Edinburgh accent met them on the main deck. “This way, folks!” With the sway of a man whose sea legs didn’t know what to do on land, he led them belowdecks to their cabin. Three porters laden with their luggage plodded behind them.

  Their cabin was a tidy space made claustrophobic by their luggage, which the porters stacked in haphazard fashion. Noting the family’s dismay, the steward smiled and tipped his cap. “It’s wee, but it’s private. There’s even a porthole somewhere in there!”

  Cade’s mother did her best to be polite. “How luxurious. Thank you.”

  An awkward silence made it clear the steward expected a tip. Cade’s father pressed a few shillings into the man’s palm, then shut the door. “I need a drink. Valerie, where’s my flask?”

  “In your trunk, where you put it.”

  The ship’s horn blared, shivering the deck with its voice. Cade put his back to a bulkhead as his parents wrestled their luggage and each other to retrieve his father’s flask. On another day, Cade might have found their foibles amusing, but the cabin was too tight for his comfort. He opened the door. “I’m going topside to watch the castoff.”

  His announcement drew an anxious look from his father, but his mother answered first. “All right, dear. If we go out, we’ll leave a light on for you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Cade made his way up to the main deck. From there he gazed out at Liverpool’s haze-obscured rooftops. Hundreds of passengers crowded the ship’s railings. Most of them waved and blew kisses to the teeming masses on the dock below. Others stared into the distance as if they feared they might never again see England—at least, not the England they knew.

  The crew cast off the ship’s arm-thick rope moorings. Clanking chains and humming motors announced the weighing of the anchor, and the Athenia’s horn split the air loudly enough to make Cade wince. Deep rumblings resounded through the hull, and the ship crept out to sea.

  A breeze offered fleeting relief from the humidity. Cade considered moving to the bow for a view of the open ocean—until he saw someone on the dock staring at him.

  The silent stranger from outside the recruiting office.

  As if immune to the swelter, the pale man was still garbed in his suit and fedora. Even from several dozen yards away, Cade felt the weight of his gaze. Whoever the man was, whatever he wanted, it was no coincidence he was here.

  Maybe I should point him out to Dad. Cade turned to hurry to the cabin, but then he wondered if he had fallen prey to his own imagination. He looked back; the stranger was gone. Whether he had vanished into the crowd or into thin air, Cade couldn’t say.

  I guess it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s gone.

  Cade walked aft. Lonely hours passed while he gazed from Athenia’s stern. He pushed from his mind all thoughts of Miles marching into peril, and of the peculiar stranger on the dock, while he watched England recede by degrees beyond the horizon.

  Farewell, Britannia, he brooded. I guess I’ll see you when the war’s over.

  * * *

  A flick of the wrist cast a match into the empty fuel drum. Flames shot upward with a roar, and heat stung Siegmar Tuomainen’s face.

  He stepped back to keep the fire from crisping his Vandyke but took care not to scuff the double circle he had chalked around the barrel, which he had found behind the docks’ motor pool, safe from prying eyes. Between the concentric rings he had scribed glyphs to prevent his enemies from detecting this minor magick. Outside the larger circle he had written the astrological signs in their zodiacal order, with Gemini to the north.

  From his pocket he took a knot of cheese cloth packed with rock salt and exorcised Mercurial incense of powdered black dianthus. He cast it into the fire. Golden sparks fountained from the blaze, and the day’s heat was dispelled by an unearthly chill.

  Siegmar extended his hand into the jet of fire and phosphors, and uttered the incantation for distant communication: “Exaudi. Exaudi. Exaudi.”

  Tongues of flame twisted then merged to reveal the face of Kein, his master in the Art. Siegmar bowed his head. “Ave, Master.”

  Kein spoke in syllables of ash and shadow. “Ave. What news?”

  “I was unable to reach him in time. He was warded against attack.”

  A solemn nod. “As we feared. Where is he now?”

  “On a ship with his parents. The Athenia. It left Liverpool at three minutes past one o’clock, bound for North America.”

  “You have done well. Return to Wewelsburg. We have much to do.”

  “What of the boy?”

  Through the flames, a wan smile. “He is at sea. He has nowhere left to run.”

  3

  Thirty-six hours of nausea and a restless night had reminded Cade how much he hated sea travel. Members of the Athenia’s crew had assured him the ocean was calm and the weather fair, but his stomach insisted they were lying. Seasickness had robbed him of his appetite within hours of the ship’s departure—an ailment that had come to seem a blessing when he spied the meals being served in the dining room.

  I love the English, but I hate their cooking.

  He stood on the promenade deck, white-knuckling the port railing as he fought the urge to retch. The sea air helped clear his head. To the south the sky was a dusky pink, and the sun descended into the horizon ahead of the westbound Athenia.

  Footsteps crossed the deck behind Cade, drawing closer. In no mood to make things easy for his father, Cade pretended not to notice his approach.

  His father stepped to the railing on Cade’s right. “You left dinner in a hurry. Feeling all right?” He saw Cade shake his head. “Hm. You do look a bit green in the gills. Maybe the ship’s doctor can give you some bicarb. Settle your stomach.”

  “You want to settle my stomach? Toss the chef overboard.”

  They passed a moment admiring the sunset. His father packed the bowl of his briar pipe with a sweet Cavendish tobacco, then looked at the horizon. “There’s something we should talk about, son.” His joviality turned to shame. “A truth I’ve kept from you for far too long.”

  Cade had never heard his father speak that way before. “Truth about what?”

  He struck a match on the railing and lit his pipe, filling the air with aromas of cherry and bourbon. “Decisions I made before you were born. Burdens I cursed you to carry.”

  “Dad, I know I complained about boarding school, but it really wasn’t that bad.”

  “You love to pretend everything’s a joke, but this is serious, Cade. All these years … I should’ve been training you.”

  “You teach history and Mom’s a chemist. What’re you gonna train me in? Alchemy?”

  “Dammit, Cade! Just listen for once in your life! I have to prepare you for what’s coming, before it’s too late. I should’ve told you the truth years ago, but your mother and I were afraid.” He stared at his shoes. “You’re all we have. We don’t want to lose you.”

  Startled into focus, Cade began to share his father’s fear. “Dad … what’re you talking about? What exactly do you think is coming? And what’s it got to do with me?”

  Just as his
father mustered the courage to reply, there came a fluttering of wings above their heads. They recoiled from a large black bird. It landed on the railing and turned to face them. Cade marveled at the creature, whose eyes shone with hypnotic power. “Is that a crow?”

  His father stared at it, horrified. “A raven.” He swatted at the bird. “Shoo! Get lost!”

  The raven flapped its wings, jabbed its beak at his hand, and let out a piercing caw. Then, in a scratch of a voice, it squawked, “Lifeboat!”

  Shocked silence. Cade backed away from the raven. “Dad … the bird talked.”

  “Go below, son.”

  “Ravens don’t talk. Parrots talk. Mynah birds talk. Even starlings. But not—”

  “Lifeboat!” the raven cried.

  Terror possessed his father. He pointed forward, toward the hatchway. “Get to the dining room! Find your mother, bring her—”

  “Why does it keep saying ‘lifeboat’?”

  “Just find your—” His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted past the bird, toward the sea. Cade stepped to the railing and saw what had mesmerized his father: a straight line of white froth churning beneath the waves—and speeding directly toward the Athenia.

  A torpedo.

  His heart pounded as he grabbed his father’s coat. “Dad, c’mon!”

  There was no time to run. The explosion boomed louder than thunder. An icy spray of seawater doused them as the Athenia lurched starboard, away from the blast, slamming them against the superstructure. A fireball climbed skyward from the aft quarter of the ship, which recoiled hard to port, throwing them against the railing.

  Cade lost his footing and started to tumble over the railing. His father dropped his pipe and caught Cade’s arm. “Hang on, son!”

  The ship settled onto its keel with a list to port. Alarms sounded, and the crew scrambled to general quarters. The raven was nowhere to be seen as Cade’s father pulled him away from the railing and pointed him forward. “Get to a lifeboat!”

  “What about Mom?”

  “I’ll find her! Go!”

  He followed his father. “I’m staying with you!”

  The captain’s voice blared from speakers on the superstructure: “All passengers, this is the captain: Abandon ship. Proceed to the main deck and board the lifeboats.”

  Cade’s father tensed to argue, then changed his mind. “Stay close.”

  They scrambled across the pitched deck, fighting for balance. At the hatchway they collided with a flood of bodies—the first wave of crew and passengers fleeing topside. Shrieks of panic filled the air as another blast rocked the ship from its bowels, knocking out the lights. Fear swirled inside Cade, churning up sickness worse than any the sea could inflict.

  His father elbowed his way down the corridor. Cade followed, blading through the crowd to make sure he and his father didn’t get separated. They charged down the forward staircase, only to be halted by a rolling wall of black smoke that stank of motor oil and diesel fuel.

  A junior officer blocked them with his palms against their chests. “Go back!”

  Cade stunned the man with a punch in the face, then followed his father past him.

  Smoke stung Cade’s eyes and burned his throat. He coughed and spat out the fuel residue in his mouth as he struggled to keep up with his father. Retreating passengers streamed past them on either side. Then someone ran right into them.

  Instead of pushing away, Cade’s father embraced the shape in the darkness. Cade blinked and recognized his mother’s profile. “Mom!”

  She let go of Blake to hug Cade, kissed his cheek, then pushed them into motion. “I’m fine! Go!” They followed the evacuation up to the promenade and joined the queue for lifeboats, which snaked up two sets of steps to a boarding platform above the main deck.

  At the head of the line, the ship’s crew did its best to keep things under control, but Cade could barely hear the officers’ instructions over the shouting passengers vying to be the first to abandon the sinking Cunard liner. “Be patient, ladies and gentlemen!” said a lieutenant. “We have lifeboats for everyone, and time to launch them! Stay calm!” His words calmed the throng until a dip to stern sent the North Atlantic’s waves coursing over the aft deck.

  The line pushed forward, only to recoil as the ranking officer drew his sidearm. “Order!” The lieutenant swung his pistol. “You’ll board when we bloody tell you!” He glanced at his crew, who fumbled with the first boat’s tangled ropes and a rusty crane arm. “Faster!” A sweep of his revolver at the encroaching masses. “You’ll board based on cabin assignment! First-class passengers to the front!”

  Booing and protests filled the air.

  An old lady shrilled, “Women and children first!”

  The tumult hushed at the crack of a gunshot. The lieutenant stood with his pistol aimed at the sky, smoke climbing from its muzzle. “First-class passengers! Board now!”

  Cade’s father pulled him and his mother forward. “That’s us.”

  Tourist- and steerage-class denizens glared at Cade, his parents, and the other first-class passengers as they shouldered their way to the front of the line, hectored by curses. A young woman clutching an infant to her breast regarded Cade with terrified eyes as he and his parents ascended the steps to the lifeboats.

  Ahead of them, the first lifeboat finished loading, a mass of nervous passengers between two young crewmen of the Athenia, one each at the boat’s bow and stern. As Cade and his parents watched its launch, Cade realized being among the first to abandon ship might be more a curse than a blessing. Tangled ropes and bad timing of the crane arm’s outward swing tilted the boat. Its posh complement yowled as they clung to seats and gunwales, desperate not to be pitched overboard. Their less wealthy fellow passengers still on the Athenia snickered at the toffs’ predicament.

  The laughter ceased as the ropes went slack and the lifeboat plunged out of control. It righted itself just before it struck the water, but it landed hard, and its splash showered the crowd on the deck.

  Above them, officers barked orders full of jargon at the launch crews. Most of the terms made no sense to Cade, but the lieutenant’s summation was easy to grasp: “No more cock-ups, you bastards! Drop another boat and I’ll shoot every last one of you!” He turned his wrath toward the passengers on the steps. “Keep it moving!” The line scurried forward. He pointed at the Martins as they neared the top of the steps. “You three! In the bow!”

  Cade was sandwiched between his parents as they were directed into the last spots, at the second lifeboat’s bow. His mother boarded first. Cade wondered if his father might try to give up his place for someone else, but his illusions of paternal chivalry shattered as his father sat down to his left on the narrow bench seat. “Hang on, son,” his father said.

  The two crewmen assigned to the lifeboat prepared for launch. Cade’s mother wrapped her arms around him, as if she could shield him from the crew’s incompetence. The ropes went taut and the boat wobbled as it was hoisted off the top deck. The crew swung the crane arm over the port side to put it above the water. Cade’s mother kissed his cheek. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.” Looking into her tear-stained eyes, he realized she was seeking courage more than offering it.

  Pulley wheels squeaked as the ship’s crew labored to launch the boat. The lifeboat was halfway down when someone lost his grip and sent them into free fall. Cade’s stomach lurched into his throat, and only the fact that it was empty kept him from spewing more than acid. The drop ended with a jolt, and freezing water exploded over the gunwales, soaking him and everyone else aboard. The ocean’s roar muffled the sounds of panic from the Athenia until Cade and the rest of the lifeboat’s lucky few surfaced and gasped for air.

  “Someone start bailing,” shouted the crewman in the rear of the lifeboat.

  The crewman at the bow said, “Set the oars! Start rowing before the next launch!”

  The lifeboat’s passengers fell over one another fixing the oars into the locks so they could move cle
ar of the launch area. A pair of men in the middle of the boat rowed, while the aft-end crewman steered the boat toward the Athenia’s half-sunken stern.

  Cade stared in horror at the wound the torpedo had torn in the ship’s hull. The gash in the ship’s aft quarter gulped seawater and belched smoke. The flooding lower decks glowed with spreading fires.

  Behind them, another lifeboat launched. It fell nose-first and pierced the surface like an arrow. Screams of terror split the air, only to be smothered by the sea.

  Athenia rolled farther to port, hurling a dozen souls over the railings into the frothing waves. Its stern sank deeper with a groan that sent a shudder down Cade’s spine.

  Clear of the foundering ship, the oarsmen rowed harder. They pushed the lifeboat around the stern, then north into open water in pursuit of the first boat, which was several dozen yards ahead of them. Cade’s father asked the man at the bow, “Shouldn’t we stay near the ship?”

  “Got to avoid getting pulled down with her when she sinks,” the crewman said over the thud-and-creak of the oars. “Trust me, we know what we’re—” The boat juddered.

  Cade’s mother’s jaw trembled and fell open, but no words came out. She pointed past the the bow, at the open sea, and his father tensed. Cade strained to see what had alarmed them.

  A whirlpool yawned ahead of the boat.

  It was no ordinary vortex; Cade sensed there was something unnatural about the speed at which its maw expanded and its swirling throat sank into the deep. Within seconds the first lifeboat tipped over its precipice and vanished. Spectral light weltered in the gyre, and a cold miasma gusted from its bowels. Cade’s father recoiled from the stench. Then a tentacle lashed out of the whirlpool, plucked the crewman from the bow, and dragged him screaming into the depths.

  “LEVIATHAN!” Cade’s father said, as if the name were a curse—and then he ceased to be the bookish Cambridge professor Cade had always known. Now he had a killer’s eyes. He stood, propped one foot against the prow, reached under his jacket, and pulled out a twisted wand of carved white wood. “Valerie! Stay down!”