Grey's Revenge: The Plymouth Grey

By Brian Lambert

Sometimes the monsters aren't paranormal.

 

Sir Malcolm Bradbury, Knight of the Realm and a man whose ambitious greed and avarice lets him destroy lives, is slowly taking control of the City of Plymouth leaving the dead bodies of his victims in his wake.

The Plymouth Grey, the secret group protecting Plymouth against paranormal threats, know that they are the only people able to put a stop to his reign of terror. But how can they do so without calling unwanted attention upon themselves?

Their plans take shape when a cargo ship arrives back in Plymouth, and its captain becomes a vital piece in the strangest horse race ever witnessed by Queen Victoria at the Chelson Meadow racecourse.

 

But have the Grey done enough to defeat a human monster?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Lambert
• Release date: Aug 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781916056312

Book preview

Prologue

The horse-drawn Hansom cab stood stationary on the dark and wet muddy street. The horse shook the rain from its eyes and stamped its hooves, neighing its displeasure at being forced to be out in the wet instead of its warm dry stable. The driver, hunkered down against the rain in his waterproof hat and long coat, clicked his tongue at it knowing full well that if the horse continued it would call too much attention to them. Which would annoy its occupant, and the driver definitely didn’t want that as they would feel it necessary to report it to their employer. And then bad things would happen.

Just like now.

Further along the unlit street dark figures moved purposefully like predatory shadows. Almost breathlessly the thin weasel-faced balding man inside the carriage watched as they silently approached a sleeping house near to the middle of the empty terrace. He knew more were around the back and would be waiting for those at the front to begin the job he’d hired them for.

He lifted the dark lantern from the seat next to him up to the rain-spattered window and quickly opened and closed its black shutter, sending the agreed signal. The momentary light was bright in the darkness and reflected off the rain-spattered glass window to show the man’s greedy excitement.

Down the street a spark and then fire bloomed in one of the shadow’s hands. Quickly they threw it at one of the house’s ground floor windows. Glass smashed twice and then flames grew bright inside, as if eager to expand into the dry space.

With the signal given more glass smashed around the back.

The figures congregated around the front door, just as the man knew they would also be around the back.

Calls and screams came from the house and the front door was pulled open. Flames lit the people trying to escape from the burning house, small children held in their arms. But those waiting outside were ready for them and more screams rent the night as they used clubs to beat them back inside.

Satisfied that the job had been completed the man in the carriage used a stick to knock on the carriage’s roof. With the need for stealth gone the carriage lurched into motion with the crack of a whip and turned to head down the dark street away from the flames and the screams. The man sat back knowing his employer’s plan was one more step towards fruition.

*

A small figure poked their head around a corner and watched as the carriage drove away. When they were sure it wasn’t going to come back they held out their right hand towards the burning house and opened it. A red glow lit up a young boy’s hand and face. An answering blue glow came from the downstairs window of the empty house next to the one the men stood outside.

Inside the empty house a tall, thin man wearing dark trousers and jacket and with a black scarf over his nose and mouth closed his hand, cutting off the blue glow. He replaced the strange pendant around his neck and nodded to similarly clothed and masked colleagues standing next to the wall which adjoined the two properties. Quickly they heaved at ropes which had been attached to hooks screwed into the bricks. Slowly a rectangular section of the wall leant towards them, the burning wallpaper from the house next door tearing. Screams and smoke entered into the room and then with a crash the prepared section of the wall fell, the bricks whose mortar between them had been removed spread across the floor.

The figures hurried over the scattered bricks and into the burning house. They were met with more screams and flailing arms but they blocked them and quickly slapped out any hair or clothing that was on fire. Then they unceremoniously grabbed the men women and children and almost threw them through the hole into the house next door. Confusion now accompanied their screams. Another figure indicated with a finger against their masked mouth that they should keep quiet, and hurry past strange lumps hidden under rough sacks to quickly head down into the house’s basement.

Is that all of them? a man’s muffled voice asked from underneath their mask.

The tall thin man nodded.

They hurried towards the strange lumps and took off the sacks. Dead bodies were revealed by the light of the flames next door.

One figure grabbed ankles, while the other grabbed upper arms.

Quickly and silently they transferred the bodies of men, women, and children into the house next door, sometimes having to slap flames off each other’s specially treated clothes before they were finished.

When all of the bodies were scattered around the burning house they retrieved metal hooks from their belts and used them to pull burning wooden bannisters, wallpaper, and the wooden separating walls down onto the bodies. The sounds of destruction almost like music to the ears of those congregated outside.

With the bodies covered and the smell of burning flesh beginning to fill the air they returned the hooks to their belts and hurried back through the hole into the now empty house. Two ropes hung down from more prepared areas of the house. The two figures jumped up and caught hold of them, using their weight to pull down yet more of the house.

Outside the burning house the dark figures cheered as the roof collapsed and bright flames leapt towards the night sky.

Scared, shocked, and angry eyes silently watched from the dark windows of a house at the end of the terrace as the figures slowly walked away believing the house’s occupants had burned to death, their job done.

*

The corpulent white-haired man sat in his favourite chair by the large fire, logs crackled as the flames consumed them. Above the mantelpiece was a large oil painting of a chestnut-coloured horse. The rest of the room had floor to ceiling shelves containing leather-bound volumes. Gaslights lit up the rain falling outside and showed rivulets of water running down the windows.

Sir Bradbury relaxed in his purple velvet smoking jacket and took a sip from the goblet of fine port he held. Black ribboned legal documents concerning properties within and around Plymouth lay on the polished mahogany veneered table next to him.

A hesitant knock came from the door into the room.

He smiled, content to hear that the person was afraid of him.

Come, he said, not bothering to raise his voice.

The man from the carriage entered and stood quietly before the table, waiting for his employer to speak.

Without taking his eyes from the picture of the horse Sir Bradbury asked, It is done?

Yes, sir.

The white-haired man nodded, knowing that if it hadn’t been then the man wouldn’t be brave enough to stand before him. He placed the goblet on the table and pulled a legal document towards himself. Picking up an expensive fountain pen he drew a large diagonal cross over its cover.

He glanced towards another document. He felt that this one had irked had him for too long, like a thorn in his side. It concerned a berth in the Cattewater docks – one that he didn’t own. It’s current owner was using it to run their business without having to pay him anything. Worse, he was leasing it out to other cargo ships, allowing them to dock there and receiving fees less than Sir Bradbury would have charged.

Perhaps it was time to do something about it and, at the same time, make an example of its owner for having the temerity to challenge Sir Bradbury’s authority?

He reached over with a pudgy hand and slid the document to himself.

Pressure would need to be applied to certain people. But that was what the man standing in front of him was for.

Plans began to take shape in his mind.

Arrival Home

A stiff breeze that blew the smoke from the funnels away also ruffled Captain Paulinus’ light brown hair. His brown eyes peered into the distance in front of him. Had he seen them? Yes! His heart filled with joy when he made out the familiar Rame Head cliffs in the distance – the ship was almost at the entrance to Plymouth Sound, where their home port lay.

Home. His heart beat faster at the thought of seeing his love again.

Finally.

How much had changed? Would his favourite watering hole, the Captain’s Arms, still be there? He had little doubt that it would. And also that he and the crew would have to watch their wallets from the pickpockets that frequented the dockside taverns. He smiled, remembering past incidents from which time had eroded the sting.

But it would be worth it. To see his friends and enjoy the company of his love and people he hadn’t already spent too much time with on board his ship. New faces. Different faces. That’s what he needed. He had nothing against his crew, but he needed to see new people, learn what was going on in the world. Then, when he’d had his fill, he’d hear the siren call of the sea and he’d willingly go to it.

He already had his stories set out. A bit of embellishment here, a joke there. He smiled, already anticipating the laughter his tales would create.

He looked over at his first mate. Looking forward to seeing your daughter, Lewis?

Aye, Cap’n. See how much she’s grown.

Paulinus knew that life was full of change, the sea changed, to good or bad, the winds changed, again to good or bad, depending on if they were with them or against them. But a loved daughter growing