10. Surprise

As diversions went, it was not initially a spectacular success. The explosion, large and impressive though it was, elicited little more than a cloud of dust and a wave of apathy.

The citizens of Malifaux dealt with death and tragedy daily. Men and women were injured or killed in the mines or succumbed to the dangers inherent in any frontier, whether it be nature, the Neverborn, or predations of their fellow man on a regular basis. When pain and horror were simply part of life's rich tapestry, anything that did not affect the average citizen directly was usually safely ignored. And so it was as the noise of the blast echoed away into the grey sky.

When the cloud of dust settled, it was clear that a large section of the Guild Forensics Building had collapsed into an enormous sewer channel beneath it. Guild scriveners still sitting in their office chairs, most in a state of shock, peered over the edges of ruined floors, looking straight down into the dark pit that had suddenly opened up beside them. As other Guild officers hurried to the scene, the people in the streets barely ceased talking and bartering and arguing to let them past.

All that changed, however, when the survivors – miraculous that there could be any – crawled out the ragged pit and started trying to eat their rescuers. As the screams and shouts rang out, and the stench of decay spread like a miasma of doom, it became clear that something had been waiting in the sewers beneath. These were not survivors, but a horde of the Undead, and what had been a rescue attempt by the Guild quickly turned into a frantic battle.

The distinctive percussive crack of the Guild Peacebringer punctuated the screams, the large calibre weapons tearing out chunks of decomposed flesh and shattering dry bones into clouds of grey, but the tide of Undead could not be halted so easily. They fell upon the Guild Guard lines in unstoppable force, and the living were smothered in a biting, clawing wave of mindless savagery.

Seamus picked his way carefully to the rim of the crater, patting at his coat to dislodge the dust, and whistling to himself amid the carnage. In his hand he held a dismembered head by a tangle of hair. He lifted the head up high to inspect the red carnival of dismemberment and disembowelling that surrounded the pair.

"It's going well, Phillip, my boy." He winced theatrically as a pair of kidneys flopped onto the rubble at his feet. He kicked them back into the fray. “That'll hurt come morning.”

"Those... those people, those officers. Show some mercy! Call them off, you madman!" Phillip cried.

"Ah, you're so tightly wound, Phillip, me old sausage. You've got to learn to relax. I would say you were risking a heart attack, but let's be honest, that would be a minor miracle if you were to have one of them, no?" Seamus said with a wink. “See? Being a head has an upside. Bet you never thought of it that way, sure.”

"Why are you showing me this?"

Seamus grabbed Phillip in both hands, looking him right in the eyes, the twinkle in his own suddenly gone. "I'm a student, just like you, Phillip. Many of man's greatest discoveries have been at the cost of his fellows. Today's events bring me closer to the greatest discovery in all of history. It's the same thing you were studying, Phillip."

Looking horrified that Seamus should suggest any sort of kinship with him, Phillip blurted, "What discovery?"

"The Spirit, Phillip. The Grave Spirit. Or did you just think the people of Old Malifaux worked out how to control death itself over their morning coffee? It's in all the oldest books, Phillip, hidden in alchemical metaphors and puzzles in the margins but I found them, Phillip. I found them all. It was real. It showed them the way. The Grave Spirit." He paused, and licked his lips. “And if I was mad, I would probably cackle insanely at this point, but I think we know, Phillip, you and me, that I am many things, but I am not mad.”

Phillip showed no sign of comprehension at all, his eyes wide as Seamus' gaze bore into him. "What... what are you talking about?"

Seamus cried out in frustration. "Kythera, Phillip! It's all about Kythera. It is where the people of Old Malifaux finally found the Grave Spirit and where we will find it. You and I will go there, together, and finish your research. Although, unlike last time, you will go there in a bag."

"Kythera..." Phillip whispered in dread. "I always knew that I would find my way back to that terrible place."

"Then we are in agreement, old cabbage! I'm glad to see you're willing," Seamus said just as a bullet punched through his hat, knocking it to the ground. Across the wreckage from him, reinforcements of Death Marshalls levelled their Peacebringers in his direction.

"Oy! Marshals! That blind nuisance won't be far behind. She can't get enough of me, you see. Well, she's only human. This was a great talk, Phillip, we'll have to pick this up another time!" Seamus spoke quickly, stuffing the protesting head back into his bag. He leaped off the heap of rubble, back down into the sewer. A short distance behind him, the Death Marshals gave chase.

Inside the intact parts of the Forensics Building, the sounds of battle were muffled. The plaster in the ceiling had cracked in the initial collapse, and flaked down around McMourning and his assistant.

Sebastian held the Gorgon's Tear in a pair of birthing forceps, at arm's length. No jewel had such a storied past as the Tear. Every owner, save Seamus, had died with it in their possession, their deaths serving to further empower the gem. "So what do I do with this?"

"How am I supposed to know? I've never used the thing before. And keep it away from me." McMourning replied, jabbing three fingers against the evil eye as Sebastian walked by. "The girl’s in the last column of drawers. Make it quick, I don't want to be here when Seamus brings this building down, too. He said it would be a small explosion. I'll show him a small explosion the next time we meet."

Sebastian, ignoring McMourning's urgency, inched over to the drawer that held Molly Squidpiddge's body as if the Tear itself might explode. He pulled the drawer open. Molly had died several weeks ago, but her body showed no sign of decay. Her flesh was milky-white and smooth like perfect porcelain. The chest wound that caused her death had begun to bleed again. It was an eerie sight, and he watched, fascinated, as the blood stained her grave clothes, like red roses blooming.

Molly coughed, a great stream of blood erupting from her mouth. Startled, Sebastian dropped the Tear. The green jewel fell, bouncing onto Molly's belly. The corpse shuddered, and she clasped the gem in both hands with unnatural quickness. Black eyes gazed up at Sebastian, and with a gasp, Molly called for her murderer and master. "Seamus!"

Sebastian, dumb-founded, stared stupidly at the reanimated Miss Squidpiddge lying before him. McMourning slapped him on the back of the head. "Yes, you freak of nature," he said to Molly, "get up and we'll take you to him. Come along now, quickly."

Molly reached up, the white fingers of her empty hand curling into Sebastian's shirt collar, using him for leverage to lift herself. Sebastian shuddered with revulsion but quickly helped her to her feet and off the slab. She held him tight, her other hand clutched the Gorgon's Tear against her breast.

Seamus splashed through the sewer. Reaching a bend in the channel, he pressed his back against the stones. In the darkness, he could hear the creak and rustle of his Undead followers. He whispered softly, "I will miss you when the Marshals take you. You all deserve the rest they will give you. Molly, though, she's different. You understand."

From behind, more boots could be heard and the flare of a torch glowed, growing in brightness. Seamus peeked round the corner at his pursuers and saw that the officers carried coffins on their backs. The sunken faces of the Death Marshals were just as gruesome as those of the zombies they hunted, the torchlight highlighting their sunken features, making the faces beneath their wide-brimmed hats look like fleshless skulls.

Seamus lifted his hand, and when the Marshals closed to just a dozen yards away, he dropped his arm, signalling his minions to attack. Flooding from the darkness, the Undead shrieked and swarmed the Marshals, who reacted without hesitation. Hefting a revolver, one Marshal unloaded six quick shots, blowing the heads off six of the zombies as they approached. Avoiding the hail of gunfire, a zombie leapt at one of the Marshals, and he caught her out of the air by her neck. Turning, he choke-slammed her into an open casket at his feet, sealing it closed with a kick of his boot.

The soldiers of the Guild worked with cold efficiency, dispatching each Undead assailant with swift, practiced movements. Seamus, biting his lip, watched in awe, truly impressed with their abilities at the same time as he mourned the loss of his Belles. He grimaced as one of the Marshals threw his coffin and hit a zombie in the face, cracking her skull against rough stonework. Another slid his casket through the water, sweeping the legs out from under one of Seamus' lovely creations, causing her to topple forward into the pinewood box. The lid snapped shut, capturing the creature inside. Still more fell as revolver shots gunned for the one place they were vulnerable, the head. As the numbers of zombies thinned, only one Marshal had fallen to the ambush.

One Marshal at the centre of the battle knelt down and hastily sketched an arcane symbol on the lid of the coffin at his feet before pulling the lid off. A purple light flashed, and ghostly tendrils whipped out of the casket to latch onto the remaining Undead assailants. A tendril lifted one of the creatures up into the air and with a quick tug, drew her into the coffin, the zombie completely swallowed by that purple light, its feet kicking helplessly just before vanishing.

Seamus took that as the sign to make his departure. He blew his girls a kiss and stomped on the detonator box at his feet. With an ear-splitting roar the stone channel collapsed around the Death Marshals. If it didn't crush them, it certainly sealed them off from Seamus.

Seamus, lighting his own torch, started down the channel to make good his escape.

“You were right to talk me out of it, Sebastian. This is another case where one of those new-fangled bicycles simply would not do.”

McMourning heaved Molly over the horse's saddle as the assistant tugged on her arms from the opposite side. Recent reanimation had a detrimental effect on the woman’s balance, and she’d fallen off the horse several times. The earlier attempts with the bicycle were best forgotten. Eventually, McMourning had decided to just stow her like baggage and be done with it. With the woman in place, McMourning climbed atop his own horse, and they rode off.

They had agreed to meet Seamus at a culvert that drained into the swamp at the outskirts of the City. As they began to ride away from the Forensics Building, a Guild officer rode out to meet them. Raising his hand, the officer flagged them down.

“I’m sorry, Dr. McMourning, no one’s allowed to leave the crime scene until everyone is interviewed and accounted for.” In no mood to discuss the issue with the man, McMourning simply drew the shotgun holstered against his saddle and shot the surprised man square in the chest.