Fortress of Ephemera: A Gothic Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

oughtn't—”
    “I don't care what ladies oughtn't.”
    “Besides, there's no guarantee of being greeted at all.”
    “Then I will take my chances, just as you are doing.”
    “You really don't want an invitation inside that place, believe me.”
    “I do not believe you.”
    At that comment I grew miffed and pointed to the edifice. “That dwelling is a vile affront to the senses, to the mind, and to decent society, if we still possess such a thing. At any rate, it's no place for a woman.”
    “There is a woman in there now. Living there.”
    “Maybe, maybe not.” Howard Kemble stepped closer, shoulders hunched against the wind and cold. “No one in this neighborhood's laid eyes on her in ten years or more, according to the newspapers. Rumor has it old Noah's living with the corpse of his dead sister.”
    “Spare us the gossip, Howard,” I said. “Elizabeth Langley hasn't been seen because she's a cripple and a recluse.”
    “I bow to your opinion, Sir.” And he did. “You're probably right. Still, anything is possible amongst the godforsaken.” He lowered his mask briefly to blow into a gloveless fist for warmth.
    “I can assure you,” I said, “the woman's very much alive.”
    “You've met her then?”
    “No, but the last time I was inside the residence, I heard her ring a bell calling for her brother as he stood beside me.” I swung my attention back to Miss Buxton. “Once the Langleys have been evicted by the health department—which is inevitable, and will happen soon, despite my own, extraordinary legal talents—I promise to introduce you to them. I'm sure you'll be of assistance and comfort in that difficult hour. But not here, not now. Neither your psyche, nor your clothing would emerge from that building unscathed.”
    She wore a blue fox fur coat with an ivory collar and an ivory felt hat of the kind I'd first seen in France the year before, a cloche . They are bell-shaped, and this one framed Miss Buxton's face much as a baby's bonnet. I confess it flattered her—even in dim lighting, even with her mood in a fine pique—to the point where I had to turn away, lest my resolve weaken.
    “Let's get this thing over with, Mister Trenowyth,” Willie Jones said, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet and hugging himself. “My toes are pinching me they're so cold.”
    “One moment,” I said just as Miss Buxton addressed me again.
    “Over the past three years, Sir, in my official capacity as a Family Visitor for the Department of Public Charities, I have witnessed so many atrocities firsthand I could not count them all. I know what degradation looks, smells, tastes, and feels like, and I've learned not to shudder in its presence. Do as you please, Mister Trenowyth, but if you will not now introduce me to this lost, distressed family then I promise you I shall do as I please and stand vigil alone on this sidewalk starting tonight, and every night, until Noah Langley emerges from his residence in the wee hours to begin one of his infamous, nocturnal rounds, whereupon I will intercept him.”
    Another printed rumor had alleged that the Langleys were vampires, based on Noah's habit of emerging from his abode after midnight dragging an empty plywood box behind him by a rope. The box was sizable enough, the rumor mongers agreed, to contain a human body curled into a fetal position. He would return with it just before dawn struggling with a heavy load that would always be hidden by a blanket or a sheet of canvas he'd brought along. A reporter for the Daily News had gone to the extraordinary length of confronting Noah on his return home one recent, early morning, demanding a peek inside the box. When Noah refused, the reporter had simply yanked back the canvas. Inside was not a bound and muzzled human being, nor a fresh corpse, suitable for sharing with Noah's sister, but instead fresh garbage, piled atop an odd assortment of junk the hoarder had scavenged from the streets and