“It’s a thaumaturgical saying. The Norse god Odin was a god of wisdom, among other things, but he wasn’t born that way. To achieve his knowledge, Odin plucked out his own eye and gave it to the god Mimir. He became partially blind to the physical world so he could see the world beyond. It’s a cautionary tale for thaumaturgists. The more we learn about the worlds beyond, the less attached we are to the world that birthed us. I gained eyes that could see the dreams of a dragon, but not the tongue to relate them. This is just one of those things I can’t share with you two, I’m sorry.”

Esmee suddenly appeared not through the wall, but through the open door. She frantically waved around the reason she came through the door: a freshly printed electrogram. The three men could smell the ink as Esee fanned the paper.

“We have an emergency!” Esmee exclaimed. “A young woman’s life is at stake! The three of you need to get to Margate as soon as possible!”

The three men placed down their drinks. There was no need for further explanation. It was not the first time that they were called to an early-morning emergency. It would not be the last.

They took their coats from the coat rack and headed for the door.

“Come with us, Esmee.” Joseph said. You can explain more on the way.”

“Excuse me Esmee, may I see?” Matthew asked as he reached for the electrogram.

“Oh, of course, Dr. Ernst.” Esmee handed Matthew the electrogram and Matthew instantly lost himself in its contents.

The physician that wrote the electrogram reported a frenzied list of symptoms–dyspnea, anemia, catatonia…

Matthew looked down at the feet of his friends and trusted them to lead him wherever he needed to go.

“Mind the office until we get back, Nick.” Martin said.

A blast of warm, comforting air conveyed Nick’s thoughts–“I will, and take care, my friends.”

The manesologists left the office and immediately encountered the small mob that loitered around their building every day. These were called the watchers, for they watched to see who came in and out of Ernst, Morton, and Glass so that they could report them to various insurance companies. Having a haunting, or simply associating with a ghost, was enough to cause one’s insurance premiums to spike, and thus Ernst, Morton, and Glass thought very little of the watchers, and Joseph in particular took pleasure in teasing them, but there was no time for that this morning.

“Excuse us, gents.” Joseph said as he produced his gaeite candle and activated it.

An electric current ran through the thick block of gaeite that made up the body of the gaeite candle. Silver-white light the color of the moon radiated from the amber colored block.

The watchers fled from the sudden light, because they knew from experience that many things could come out of olprt radiance, things that were most often large, fearsome, and ill-tempered when held in the grip of Joseph Morton.

Joseph cleared his mind and thought of the appropriate images.

The Dyeus prince spoke the name of his sire, and he appeared. It was not a pleasant reunion. The people demanded their king’s return. The prince begged for his father’s return. In the face of all this, the old man didn’t dare voice his need for rest.

The Zacare Operation

Whistle, named so for the sound he made as he galloped through the air, appeared. He was an old and valuable ally of Ernst, Morton, and Glass. He was a ghost horse, the first to be recorded in the modern era. The wind blew through the translucent beast just as easily as the light did. Whistle shook his chestnut colored neck and flared his nostrils without a sound. He only made his namesake sound when he was tearing through the air.

Attached to him was a carriage, hollow as a Jack-o-lantern pumpkin. Ernst, Morton, and Glass boarded it along with Esmee. Martin activated his gaeite candle and filled the inside with silvery-white light. He would have to perform the Perkunos Operation as long as Whistle was in flight. It was a safety precaution to ensure the horse and his carriage remained solid during the trip.

Joseph produced a metal square covered in dials and switches from his pocket. This was a tool Ernst, Morton, and Glass called the noise box, and though it was made to communicate with a ghost that only manifested as and responded to sound, it proved to be a tool with other uses such as directing Whistle through the sound of whip cracks.

Joseph turned a dial and the sharp sound of a whip caused Whistle to take to the air. Two more whip cracks caused Whistle to turn in the direction of Margate.

“Tell us what’s happening, Esmee.”Joseph said.

In normal light, Esmee appeared a light blue, a blue like that of a forget-me-not or a morning glory, but in olprt radiance, she appeared as black as the cover of a Bible, as did all ghosts and spiritual manifestations. Gaeite candles revealed the supernatural, no matter how invisible their manifestations might be.

So completely was she rendered as a black silhouette that her mouth could not be seen. Her face was like a blot of ink.

“There’s a girl named Audrey Lewis in Margate. Her parents found her early this morning, collapsed in the bathroom with a horrible fever. She was unresponsive. Her breathing was shallow. Her color was pale. She was…is…dying. Her parents called a physician, but, well…Dr. Ernst can see just from the electrogram…”

“Yes.” Matthew said without glancing up from what he was reading. “Yes I can see. The poor physician seems beside himself. He makes it very clear in his writing that he has no idea what is wrong with Audrey Lewis, no idea what he can do to stop the symptoms, and no idea whether she’ll live to sundown.”

“She’s fading that fast?” Joseph asked.

Matthew nodded.

“Audrey doesn’t have a history of illness. She’s never had anything more serious than a cold.” Esmee said. “So it has to be a ghost doing this to her, a ghost or something like a ghost.”

Matthew handed the electrogram back to Esmee.

“It’s hard to say at the moment, but my current hypothesis is that this is a malady possessor.” Matthew said.

“Oh!” Esmee’s hands shot to her face. “Another one of those?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Matthew answered.

“Damn it.” Joseph muttered. “If it’s a malady possessor, then she may have already passed.”

“Don’t say that, Dr. Morton!” Esmee exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, dear, but it’s the truth of the matter. They’re one of the most murderous types of ghosts.”

“Even if we don’t get there in time, we can still prevent the malady possessor from spreading.” Martin said. ‘One life dies, but several more are spared. Let’s look to that, if we can’t look to anything else.”

Malady possessors were a virulent kind of ghost. They were the ghosts of those that died to slow, lingering disease. The spiritual component that stores the memories and behaviors of a ghost’s physical life was very strong within them while the spiritual component that creates a ghost’s novel behaviors was very weak. This caused them to experience, vividly, what it was like on their deathbed while being unable to move beyond that suffering. This imbalance of spiritual components made them miserable beings, but it was another weakness in the spiritual component that controls the imprinting and expression of a ghost’s physical body that made their misery contagious.

Malady possessors did not have ectoplasmic bodies, like Esmee. Instead, they were bodiless and manifested, as Nick did, as flashes of light or wisps of color. Malady possessors remembered the suffering of their bodies but lacked a body to contain that suffering. Thus, seeking to complete themselves, they sought out the bodies of others to pour their misery into.

Not being biological beings, malady possessors could not spread the disease that killed them, but they could force the bodies of those they possessed to respond as if they had the disease. This resulted in what was essentially an extremely strong allergic response. The body’s own immune system killed it from within.

Malady possessors were a physician’s nightmare. They were quick to infect, quick to kill, and quick to move on to other hosts. They had wiped out entire communities while leaving bodies that showed absolutely no signs of infection or disease. Their blood, now still and cold, showed no bacterial or viral infection under the latest microscopes.

“Would you like for us to summon someone to escort you back to Blackwall, Esmee?” Matthew asked. “The Sky Witch, perhaps?”

“No.” Esmee replied. “I could use a good flight. It’s been awhile since I’ve had one.”

“Are you sure?” Matthew asked. “We’re a long way from Blackwall now, you know how fast Whistle travels.”

“The longer the flight, the better. Besides, there’s the Thames right there.” Esmee pointed out the carriage window at a blue ribbon winding its way across the ground. “I just have to follow it to find Blackwall. But could Martin poke a little hole? The last time I tried passing through Whistle’s ectoplasm while he was in motion the speed caused me to fan out like a rag in a gust of wind.”

“I certainly can do that.” Martin said.

He touched a finger to the side of the carriage. A small hole appeared where his fingertip touched. Air whistled through the opening.

“Ha.” Joseph smirked. “A whistle inside Whistle!”

“You’re making jokes now?” Martin asked. “Now?”

“Yes I make jokes now.” Joseph answered. “While jokes can be made.”

“Good luck.” Esmee said. “I hope it isn’t a malady possessor, but if it is, good luck anyway!”

She scrunched herself down until she was a thin, blue rod, then she shot out of the small opening like a blue lightning bolt.

When she was gone, Martin touched the hole with his finger and sealed it.

A few moments later, Whistle arrived in Margate. The manesologists followed the directions in the electrogram and steered Whisper toward the Lewis household. They found Mr. Lewis waiting outside his mansion. He had been waiting for Ernst, Morton, and Glass ever since the family physician declared himself powerless to help his daughter.

Mr. Lewis flinched back as Whistle drew up by the porch. “Good God! It’s like Satan’s own horse!” he exclaimed.

“No sir. Old Whistle isn’t Satan’s horse, he’s ours.” Joseph said as he stepped down from the carriage. “We’re Ernst, Morton, and Glass. Show us where Audrey is.”

Mr. Lewis led the three manesologists inside. “She’s in her bedroom.” he said. “I carried her there after my wife found her passed out on the bathroom floor.”

“We know.” Matthew said. “Dr. Johns’ notes were very comprehensive.”

“What is it? Do you know? Mr. Lewis asked. “What’s happened to my daughter? Has she been possessed?”

“We have to see and examine her before we make that determination.” Matthew said. “It may take some time.”

“Of course. I understand that. But do you have any idea what could be wrong with her? Any idea at all?”

“We don’t like to discuss possibilities, only certainties.” Matthew said.

He thought it would be best not to mention their malady possessor theory. Matthew could see that Mr. Lewis was trying his best to appear calm and collected as he led the manesoloigsts through his home, but the sweat on his brow and his quick breaths revealed that was struggling through the most terrifying night of his life.

“Yes. That makes sense.” Mr. Lewis said. “You want to be certain. That makes perfect sense. There’s a lot of things that could be wrong. It’s just like a normal fever. A lot of things can cause a normal fever, but you have to do an examination to find the specific thing. It’s just like a normal fever…”

Mr. Lewis muttered something that Joseph couldn’t hear with his old ears, but Matthew and Martin heard it clearly: “Please don’t take long. She doesn’t have long, I think…”

Martin looked around. Family portraits and paintings of flowers hung on the walls. A Margate newspaper was pinned under a cooling cup of morning tea. This was not a cemetery, or an old castle, or an ancient ring of ruined stones. This was a home for the living. Somehow, the dead had been brought to this place.

Mr. Lewis led the manesologists to the door of Audrey’s bedroom. Through the opened door, the manesologists could see Mrs. Lewis sniffling at her daughter’s bedside while the family physician stood in the corner like a cringing scarecrow, stiff in the knowledge of how useless he was.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, please wait outside.” Matthew said.

Mrs. Lewis slowly, quietly, stood up, gave her daughter’s hand a tight squeeze, then shuffled pitifully to her husband’s embrace beyond the threshold. As she cried into his chest, Joseph shut the door, leaving the manesologists with a helpless physician and a dying girl.