Tales from the Archives: Volume 2

By Helen Madden, Val Griswold, J R Blackwell and 2 more

Tales from the Archives are short stories set in the world of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences. They explore events mentioned in the novels, characters seen and unseen and may include novel teasers of things to come. This volume includes:

The Astonishing Amulet of Amenartas by Nathan Lowell

Agent Heathcliff Durham finds himself crisscrossing Africa, looking for an Amulet that could spell disaster for any who come near it. Battling blistering heat, starvation, wild animals, and despair, he is not comforted by the company of a rough and ready sort named Morrison. Soon Durham begins to suspect he may never return home—and to top it all off the tea has almost run out.

Ruby In Rain by Grant Stone

From the farthest edge of the Empire, New Zealand agents Lachlan King and Barry Ferguson are called to interview a recent arrival to Auckland’s prisons. An infamous gambler, according to the constable’s account, has turned himself into their custody, not for the safety of society but for his own. The Ministry steps in to uncover a man’s story of impressive luck, and more incredible vision.

The Shadows of Calcutta by Phil Rossi

Agent Robert Smith, on return from a mission in Nepal, is diverted to India where he is charged to find a missing agent. Alex Tanner had been investigating a series of thefts and murders holding the Ministry’s attention, and now it falls on Agent Smith to find his missing comrade.

From Paris, With Regret by Starla Hutchon

On assignment in the City of Light, Ministry agents Eliza D. Braun and Harrison Thorne chase down a murderer condemning descendants of a royal bloodline to a horrific death.

The Night Plutonian Shore by Jack Mangan

In 1849 when a poet is murdered in the streets of Baltimore. The man behind the seemingly random murder manages to elude the law until — in 1889 — Agents Bruce Campbell and Brandon Hill track him down. The assassin, Mikael Scharnusser, gives the slip to the agents on revealing his “talent” and the madman’s intentions to bring down the House of Usher.

The Seven by P C Haring

Agent Brandon Hill is on assignment in South America, enjoying the local culture and women, when a mystery that could lead to El Dorado falls into his lap. Before the intrepid agent knows it, he is the jungle uncovering a plot but the devilish Illuminati. He will need all his monkey knife fighting skills to survive this one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ImagineThat Studios
• Release date: Nov 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466063297

Helen Madden

Helen E. H. Madden is a writer and graphic artist who quit her lucrative day job years ago to tell dirty stories for fun and profit. Her published works include Future Perfect: A Collection of Fantastic Erotica (published by Logical-Lust.com) and Demon By Day (published by Mojocastle Press). Her erotic stories have appeared in various anthologies, but lately Helen has been indulging her more sinister side with short stories like “Let Me Sleep” appearing in the “Chronicles of the Order” podcast.Helen also draws The Adventures of Cynical Woman, a web comic about life as a stay-at-home mom and erotica writer.

Book preview

Tales from the Archives

Tales from the Archives

VOLUME 2

HELEN MADDEN VAL GRISWOLD-FORD J R BLACKWELL J R MURDOCK ALYSON GRAUER CATHERINE FORD

Imagine That! Studios, Copyright 2011

All rights reserved.

Interior Layout by Imagine That! Studios 

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means whatsoever without the prior written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner. 

www.ministryofpeculiaroccurrences.com

Also from the Ministry

The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences series

Phoenix Rising

The Janus Affair

Dawn’s Early Light

The Diamond Conspiracy

The Ghost Rebellion

Operation Endgame

Verity Fitzroy and the Ministry Seven

The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh

The Mystery of Emerald Flame

The Secret of the Monkey God

Tales from the Archives

Volume 1

Volume 3

Volume 4

Steampunk Anthologies

The Books and Braun Dossier

Magical Mechanications

Ministry Protocol: Thrilling Tales from the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences

Contents

Hanuman’s Gift

The Sun Never Sets

Women of the Empire

The Emperor’s Fist

A Trick of Strong Imagination

The Wrong Camera

About the Authors

Hanuman’s Gift

BY HELEN E. H. MADDEN

The night was dark, black as sin and full of hidden secrets, much like the eyes of the beautiful woman trapped in his arms. Augustus Whitby knew from experience how dangerous this particular lady could be, and he dared not let her escape from his grasp. Lady Olivia Blackwell would just as likely stab him in the back with one of the wicked little stilettos she was known to keep hidden on her person as she was to kiss him. He certainly hoped she was in the mood for the later, and not the former.

Tell me where it is, he murmured to her. His voice was barely audible above the whispering night breeze that carried with it the exotic scents of incense and ripe fruit, offerings left by the local natives for the monkey god, Hanuman, in who's temple they stood.

Where is what? the dusky-eyed lady murmured back, coy as always.

Augustus smiled. You know what I mean, darling Olivia. Hanuman's gift. I'm sure you've seen it. Big gold statue thingy, in the shape of a monkey, encrusted with rubies and pearls?

The lady chuckled. Oh, that gaudy thing. Really, my dear Augustus, I thought you had better taste.

This is not about taste, dear. It's a matter of great importance to the Empire. That gaudy thing, as you call it, is a priceless relic of unfathomable mystical power. I've been charged by the Ministry to bring it back to London immediately. You see, they fear that in the wrong hands, it could spell the end to Britain's rule over the crown jewel of the Empire!

And how could such a trinket do that? the lovely thief said, flashing him a winsome smile.

Well, it...it...I mean, I suppose it...

Oh dash it all!

Augustus Whitby threw down his pen, once again foiled by the cleverness of Lady Olivia Blackwell. It didn't matter that the woman was nothing more than words scratched into his personal journal. That particular character always found a way to confound him during his writing. He would no sooner have set just the right scene for one of his stories—a very romantic scene, at that—than she would open her lovely mouth and utter something that would completely disrupt his entire plot. Like asking him questions about unimportant details he didn't have the answers for yet. Didn't that blasted woman understand that he was writing a story, for God's sake? He couldn't be bothered with such trivialities as the actual purpose of a mystical artifact. Wasn't it enough that the stupid thing existed in the first place? And that it threatened the British Empire?

Augustus glared at his journal. The nib of his pen leaked a dark stain across the name of his main character, which was his name of course. After all, why bother writing exotic tales of adventure if you couldn't write yourself into them? That's what those buffoons up in the Ministry's main office were always doing. He eyed the growing pile of boxes stacked before his desk, each one containing the so-called reports and collected evidence of the cases worked by the Ministry's field agents. When he'd first been assigned to work in the Archives of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences, he'd peeked into some of those boxes, even read through the reports. Utter rubbish. As if he was actually supposed to believe any of the nonsense stored in there. An underwater base in the lost city of Atlantis? Ridiculous. A mystical portal in New Grange, Ireland, that opened a door to an alternate reality every Winter Solstice? Ha! Oh sure, the field agents had an advantage over him in being able to travel to the settings for their little tales. If one spends a few weeks jaunting around South America, one is bound to get some of the local details right. But that was about as factual as any of these reports ever got, Augustus decided. The rest of it was sheer mystical mumbo-jumbo nonsense. He looked again at the boxes of case reports surrounding his desk, stacked five feet deep in places, and sniffed. His stories were much better than any field agent's could ever be, even if he never did leave this miserable little hole Doctor Sound had assigned him to.

He turned back to his journal and sighed. I should have been a journalist, he thought to himself. Then at least I could have gotten out a bit for my writing. And perhaps even become famous to boot!

He picked up his pen and dipped it into the inkwell on his desk. Lady Blackwell's last words on the journal page taunted him. With a sigh, he did what he always did in such cases. He drew a large X over the entire story so far—a grand total of two full pages, the farthest he had managed to get in any of his tales—and then he turned to the next blank page in the book. It was frustrating, but he couldn't imagine finishing the story at this point. He would abandon this tale and start anew, begin a different story, one that didn't involve the troublesome Lady Blackwell. Although he had to admit, of all his leading ladies, the sly and saucy brunette was his favorite. He pressed the nib of his pen to the blank page and began to write.

It was a dark and stormy night⁠—

BANG! Far overhead, the door to the Archives flung open. A tall figure stepped through. Even from this distance, Augustus recognized the mop of shaggy blond hair and the arrogant bearing of Agent Harrison Thorne.

Whitby! The agent's voice boomed into the cavernous confines of the Archives. The sheer noise of it caused Augustus' pen to skid across the journal page, leaving a dark ragged line behind it. Are you down there, you lazy devil? I've got a little present for you.

Augustus snapped his journal shut and gritted his teeth. He knew all too well what Agent Thorne's present must be. Once again he eyed the pile of boxes sitting in front of his desk and groaned. Agent Harrison Thorne had completed yet another field mission and was now about to deposit the dregs of it at Augustus' feet. What joy.

Thorne clattered down the four storey’s of stairs, humming a spritely tune as he went. With far too much energy, Augustus thought, he crossed the expanse of the Archives’ main office and deposited the expected box on top the growing wall created by its brothers.

Bloody hell, Whitby. Don't you do a damn thing down here? I can see at least two of my previous reports still sitting where I last left them.

I'm busy! Augustus snapped. He tapped the closed journal in front of him. In case you hadn't noticed, I have quite a bit of work to do.

I'll say you do, Thorne replied, eyeing the boxed reports. Aren't you supposed to...I don't know, store these things? Someplace other than right here where we agents leave them?

Humph! I can't be bothered with such menial tasks as lifting and filing—Wait! Stop! That's my journal!

Agent Thorne grinned and held aloft the leather-bound volume he had just snatched from Augustus' hands. Now, now, I just want to see what's so important that you don't have time to spare for anything else. Let's see here... He flipped through the book until a particular page caught his eye and he began to read aloud. 'Oh Augustus!' the voluptuous red-head sighed. 'However shall we escape? There must be forty thugees and you are unarmed!' 'Not quite, my dear,' the brave Augustus answered, withdrawing a Howitzer from the front of his trousers...'

Thorne broke off, his face crinkling into a poorly suppressed grin. Whitby, he choked out. You do realize a Howitzer is a bit large to be stuffing down your trousers?

That's a rough draft! Augustus snatched back the book. I haven't finished researching the details yet.

I... see... A snort of laughter escaped from between Thorne's compressed lips. Moments later, the tall man's body was shaking with the force of his guffaws.

Oh for God's sake, Whitby. Whatever you do, don't let Doctor Sound catch you down here writing this drivel. You'll be out on the street in no time, and if you have to depend on your writing skills to survive, you'll starve!

Obviously amused with this observation, Thorne threw back his head and howled. Augustus sneered.

"Oh do laugh. I'm so glad to provide you with entertainment, but I could say the same things about you and your writing! I've read some of your so-called mission reports. Undead creatures that survive on the blood of the living, ghostly apparitions of lost ships that lead sailors to their deaths in uncharted waters. Rubbish! At least my tales are meant