The Ghost Rebellion Read Online Free PDF Page A

you.” Every board member cringed as Holmes’ finger slipped deftly to an amber button at the top of the console. “The staff will see you to the door.”
    With a final nod, the directors all stood in unison.
    “ Mr Fox,” Holmes said, “Stay for a moment, if you please.”
    Each representative regarded Jeremy for a moment. The primitive part of his brain screamed at him to get up and run for the door. It wasn’t that far. Easy distance to cross. The more logical part assured him he would be dead within three steps.
    “ But of course,” Jeremy replied, easing back into his own chair.
    The door opened, and three men filed in. Though they were dressed in the typical dark suits of the House, they were much taller—all over six and a half feet. They also had curiously white hair for young men. A shudder ran down Jeremy’s spine as he observed how their eyes remained fixed on unseen points in space above them. As their faces were elevated slightly, it was impossible for the dim light of the room to not catch the milky substance that undulated within their pupils.   
    “ You rang, sir?” the lead valet asked.
    “ Yes, Barnsley,” Holmes said, opening his journal to a blank page, “please escort the board members out.”
    “ Safely, sir?” he asked, his query capturing everyone’s attention.
    Holmes jotted down a few notes in his pad, and then replied, “This time, yes.”
    Barnsley nodded curtly and stepped back, motioning to the door where the remaining valets, blind as their leader, stood on either side.
    Sharing uneasy looks with one another, the leaders of the House of Usher disappeared from view, leaving Jeremy alone with Holmes.
    “ Mr Jeremy Elliot,” Holmes said as he leaned back in his chair, “as it is only you and I present, I am making the rather bold assumption I can drop with the alias pretence. Fox, Dingo, Wolf, Bear...a bit trite, don’t you think?”
    “ The less we know about one another—” Jeremy began.
    “ Yes, yes, I know—plausible deniability, secrecy maintained, but really, it’s traditions like that which keep the House anchored in its own past. Besides, you lot spy so incessantly on one another, you all not only know one another’s true names, you know their families, their intimate acquaintances, and probably what they had for breakfast this morning.” Holmes shook his head. “And yet we call ourselves ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ when we know so very little about each other, about our passions...” He leaned forward. “Our obsessions. This archivist I have heard tell of—” Holmes returned his attention to the ink still drying against the open page. “Wellington Thornhill Books. I want to know everything about him.”
    Jeremy stumbled on this new title. It would take some getting used to. “Chairman...”
    “ Henry, please,” he said.
    Jeremy cleared his throat. He was desperate for a drink. “Henry, as head of the House, you now have access to mission dossiers. I beli—”
    “ Jeremy,” Holmes sighed, and on that exhale Jeremy’s flight response bucked and kicked like a wild horse trapped in a pen, “I am sure there are some fascinating reports at my disposal, but that is not what I want. I want the third element of our new foundation. We have Authority. We will have Accountability. What I want is what you want: Achilles. I want to hear your personal thoughts concerning this great hope of the House of Usher. I want to hear of what had been promised to us decades ago, about the progress made by both Arthur Books and Dr Henry Jekyll, and about the boy that grew to become Wellington Thornhill Books, archivist for the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences. I want to understand your obsession.” Holmes urged, his pen at the ready, “I want to hear all about it, from the beginning.”
     

Chapter Two
    When Our Colonial Pepperpot and Dashing Archivist Set Foot in India, a Land of Many Surprises
     
    Bombay in January was a lovely change from wintry