Dramatis Personae
(in order of appearance)
Eloise “ELLIE” Westmont, probably the best investigator of the group. Female, mid 20s, posh English accent.
Detective Chief Inspector ISKANDAR Meshkia, lender of a small degree of official authority to the operation. Male, late 30s, strong Turkish accent.
KURT Cross, actor, veteran, and car-haver. Male, early 30s, New York accent.
The FIRST CULTIST at the scene, Milton’s enforcer. Male, any age, London accent.
The SECOND CULTIST at the scene, perhaps one with more focus on the magic and mysteries. Male, any age, London accent.
Dr. ERNEST Wilde, a logical person about to be plunged into an illogical world. Male, early 30s, Northern English accent.
Sebastian MILTON, custodian of arcane lore and hidden mysteries. Male, mid 50s, London accent.
JASMINE Indrani, the late professor’s missing assistant. Female, late 20s, could have a British or Indian Accented English accent.
Henry CARLTON, Ernest’s longtime friend and practical grounding influence. Male, early 30s, London accent.
EMILIA Niyazova, one of the only people in this Godforsaken city who can make a good cup of Turkish coffee. Female, early 20s, slight Russian (actually Kazakh) accent.
NIGEL Blackthorne, believer in magic. Male, early 30s, posh British accent.
Scene 1: Ext. South Bank market – Night
MUSIC: OPENING THEME.
We rejoin KURT, ELLIE, and ISKANDAR in the car outside Milton’s Rare Books. It’s raining steadily now.
ELLIE:
Did you hear that?
ISKANDAR:
Something hit the back door.
ELLIE:
A light just went on upstairs.
ISKANDAR:
I’m going in.
He opens the car door, and the sound of rain on pavement becomes louder.
KURT:
Wait—
ISKANDAR:
I’m sorry, Mr. Cross, but this was foolish to begin with.
The suspension creaks as he leaves the car, and his shoes create a small splash on the wet pavement.
KURT:
I’m coming with you.
The driver’s-side door opens.
ELLIE:
Wait for me!
ISKANDAR:
You should stay, Miss Westmont.
Someone might need to call the authorities.
ELLIE’s door opens as well.
ELLIE:
You’ll need me to get that door open.
The car doors slam shut in rapid succession.
KURT:
I know.
Just be careful.
The rain continues, and the footsteps of our three investigators cross the wet pavement to the back door of the shop. ISKANDAR knocks on the door with a fist, rapid and insistent.
ISKANDAR:
Metropolitan Police! Open up!
KURT:
This is the back room he showed us.
ISKANDAR knocks again, louder this time.
ISKANDAR:
Mr. Milton? Open this door.
ELLIE:
Here, let me.
Someone approaches from within; footsteps on a wooden floor.
KURT:
Someone’s coming.
Before ELLIE can produce her lockpicks, the lock on the back door turns, and the door begins to open.
ISKANDAR:
Stand back.
Our three investigators back away from the door, their footsteps a disorganized clatter on the pavement. The door opens the rest of the way, and a shotgun cocks.
FIRST CULTIST:
Who’s there?
ISKANDAR:
(Grunt of effort)
ISKANDAR cracks the CULTIST’s elbow with a fist, followed by a blow to the head. Unconscious, the CULTIST crumples to the ground.
ISKANDAR:
Take his gun.
KURT:
Got it.
From some distance away, more footsteps approach at a run across the pavement.
ELLIE:
(With a veneer of calm)
We have another visitor.
SECOND CULTIST:
(Off mike)
Who’s there? Don’t move!
ISKANDAR:
Police business, sir, please stand back.
SECOND CULTIST:
(Approaching quickly)
You will not interfere with the work.
KURT:
Stay back!
The SECOND CULTIST breaks into a run.
KURT fires the gun.
SECOND CULTIST:
(Cry of pain)
KURT:
Damn! I told you to stop!
SECOND CULTIST:
(Incoherent screaming)
ELLIE:
So much for the element of surprise.
KURT:
It was supposed to be a warning. I didn’t know the thing was full of birdshot.
ISKANDAR:
(To the SECOND CULTIST)
Who are you? What’s going on here?
SECOND CULTIST:
(Groaning in pain)
ISKANDAR:
You’ll live. Don’t try to walk.
(To KURT and ELLIE)
Inside, quickly. Stay out of sight.
A confusion of footsteps as the three of them enter the building.
SECOND CULTIST:
(Quietly)
These are but birthing pains.
(Groan of pain)
All suffering soon will cease. These are but birthing pains.
The door to the bookshop slams shut.
Scene 2: Int. Milton’s Rare Books, upper floor – Night
Backtracking a bit, we rejoin MILTON and ERNEST. The FIRST CULTIST is tying ERNEST to a chair, running rope through his hands. ERNEST resists, knocking the chair legs against the floor.
ERNEST:
I assure you, this isn’t necessary.
MILTON:
Just a precaution, Dr. Wilde.
ERNEST:
(Voice breaking in panic)
Right. Just a precaution.
He stops struggling, trying a different approach.
ERNEST:
Look, I’ll be quiet. I’ll leave and never come back.
(An uncomfortable pause)
What are you going to do to me?
MILTON:
Nothing, I hope.
But the night is young.
ERNEST:
You don’t have to do anything, I promise.
MILTON moves around the room, removing heavy books from shelves. The window panes rattle in the wind, and rain splatters against the glass.
A brief, uncomfortable silence passes.
ERNEST:
Can I ask you a question?
MILTON:
I won’t stop you.
ERNEST:
What did you mean, “the birth of the world to come”?
(When he doesn’t get a response, he begins to babble)
Because, clearly, you’re planning something here. Not that you need to tell me what you’re planning, because I don’t need to know, really.
But, you know, I’m curious. I’m a scientist. Used to be a medic, actually, during the war. In Belgium, mostly. But I finished my studies when I came back.
MILTON:
Admirable of you, to be a medic.
Saving lives.
ERNEST:
That’s kind of you to say.
It was mostly trying not to get shot.
MILTON:
How many would you say that you snatched from the jaws of death?
ERNEST:
Oh, I don’t know.
I don’t really like to think about it like that.
Besides, I just needed to keep them stable until they got to the field hospital. Then it was out of my hands.
MILTON:
Let’s say dozens, maybe hundreds? You seem like the diligent sort. Moral.
ERNEST:
Er, thank you. I think.
MILTON:
Hundreds of lives, out of millions more lost.
ERNEST:
Well, yes. I suppose you’re right.
MILTON:
You’re a scientist. You’re curious, you said so yourself.
Did you ever wonder why? Why so much death?
ERNEST:
Well, it’s war, isn’t it?
It’s something we humans do from time to time.
Maybe someday, someone will figure out why, and we’ll be able to stop it before it starts.
MILTON:
You are a scientist. I’m a collector of literature.
I think we both know that will never happen.
ERNEST:
e spent centuries believing we’d never figure out why some pea flowers turn out pink and others turn out white.
Or why the planets go into retrograde.
Or any number of things.
MILTON:
Hm.
Funny that you should mention the planets.
ERNEST:
Why’s that?
MILTON:
We stand, Dr. Wilde, in the dark night before the new dawn.
The stars are coming into alignment.
The new world is about to be born, and the Great War was but its harbinger.
ERNEST:
I don’t think I follow you.
We hear ISKANDAR knocking on the downstairs door, though we can’t hear the investigators’ voices.
MILTON:
Go see who it is.
The FIRST CULTIST departs the room, the floorboards creaking under his feet, and descends the staircase.
ERNEST:
(Trying to get back to stalling for time)
Don’t you think that’s a little…hyperbolic?
The war…it changed things, I’m not going to argue with that.
But life goes on. There’s still work to do and rent to pay.
Another knock from below.
MILTON:
And soon we’ll be free of it.
Each one of those millions of deaths, the ones you couldn’t prevent, Dr. Wilde, was a necessary sacrifice.
These are but birthing pains.
ERNEST:
(With dawning horror)
What are you talking about?
The gunshot sounds from downstairs.
Scene 3: Int. Milton’s Rare Books, ground floor – Night
In the back room of the bookshop, the exterior door closes, cutting off the sound of rain. A few seconds of hollow, ominous silence.
ISKANDAR:
(Not quite whispering)
We should call the authorities.
KURT:
Aren’t you the authorities?
ISKANDAR:
Not at the moment.
ELLIE:
No one out front. They must be upstairs.
KURT:
Okay.
(A steadying breath)
Ellie, dear, I’d rather you stay out of the line of fire. There should be a telephone on this block. Can you find it?
ELLIE:
I can find it.
ISKANDAR:
Stay out of sight.
KURT:
If you see more of them, come upstairs and warn us.
You know I trust your judgment.
KURT and ISKANDAR ascend the stairs. A drone begins in the background.
Scene 4: Int. Milton’s Rare Books, upper floor – Night
At the top of the stairs, KURT pounds on MILTON’s door.
KURT:
Milton! Open this door.
I’m armed, and the police are on their way.
He tries the doorknob. It rattles, but doesn’t turn.
KURT:
Locked.
Doc? You in there?
ERNEST:
(Muffled)
Yes! Do some—
Behind the door, ERNEST begins to cough. The doorknob rattles again.
ISKANDAR:
Stand back.
He kicks the door in; the wood cracks and splits. The drone increases in volume. KURT cocks the gun.
ERNEST:
(Coughing and spluttering; he’s coughing up water)
KURT:
(Immediately in character)
Hands where I can see them.
MILTON:
(Distorted, guttural chanting)
ISKANDAR:
Dr. Wilde?
ERNEST:
(Continuing to cough)
MILTON:
(Chanting continues)
KURT:
What are you saying?
ISKANDAR:
We’ve subdued your associates. There’s nowhere to run.
KURT:
Stop that. Put your hands over your head.
The drone reaches a crescendo. MILTON’s chanting ends on one harsh syllable.
KURT:
(Cough)
ISKANDAR:
Mr. Milton, we can talk about this like reasonable people.
KURT:
(Coughing up water)
ISKANDAR:
I’m going to untie the professor now. Don’t move.
ERNEST:
(Gasping for breath)
No—stop him—
KURT:
(Continuing to cough and struggle for breath)
MILTON:
(Resumes distorted chanting)
ISKANDAR:
What are you doing?
Deciding not to wait for an answer, ISKANDAR strides across the room and strikes MILTON in the solar plexus.
The chanting abruptly stops as MILTON has the wind knocked out of him.
MILTON:
(Grunt of surprise and pain)
The drone stops.
ISKANDAR and MILTON struggle, but ISKANDAR is stronger and better trained, and he subdues MILTON, pinning his arms.
ISKANDAR:
(Hot on mike)
Whatever you’re thinking of doing, I advise against it.
MILTON:
(Strained)
It doesn’t matter. It’s too late for you.
KURT:
(Coughing and struggling to breathe)
ISKANDAR:
You did something to them, didn’t you?
What have you done?
MILTON:
What was necessary.
KURT slumps to the floor.
ISKANDAR drops MILTON and goes to KURT’s side, striking him on the back with a series of heavy thumps.
KURT:
(Coughing up water)
ERNEST:
Watch him—
MILTON drags himself to his feet.
KURT props the gun against the floor, takes a brief second to aim it, and fires. MILTON cries out in surprise. The window shatters, and glass rains onto the floor. The sound of rain enters the room.
KURT:
(Taking shaky breaths)
What in the hell did you do to me?
ISKANDAR:
Are you all right?
KURT:
(Breathing heavily and wetly)
Yeah. I think so.
ISKANDAR:
Untie the professor.
KURT:
Yeah. On it.
ISKANDAR goes back to MILTON, seizing him by the collar and dragging him to his feet.
MILTON:
Are you going to kill me?
It makes no difference.
ISKANDAR:
No.
But if you move, or attempt to speak again, I will strike your head against the floor to stop you.
KURT unties ERNEST from the chair, dragging rope against fabric.
ERNEST:
(Hoarsely)
What took you so long?
KURT:
(To MILTON, ignoring ERNEST)
That’s what happened to Professor Ragnarsson, wasn’t it?
How did you do that?
MILTON:
You’ll see soon enough.
KURT:
On second thought, don’t tell me.
(To ERNEST)
Here, bring the chair over.
The chair drags across the floor.
ISKANDAR:
You’re sure you’re all right?
Both of you?
KURT:
I mean, I can breathe. Mostly.
Don’t know if I’d say I’m fine.
Ellie will have called the police by now. We just have to keep him from doing that again.
Scene 5: Int. Milton’s Rare Books, basement – Night
ELLIE reenters the bookshop. The rain is loud when she opens the door, and cuts off when she closes it.
ELLIE:
(To herself)
Our friends out here are gone.
It’s too dark to see where they went.
Slowly, she crosses the wooden floor onto the back room’s rug. As she reaches the center of the room, one of her footsteps is a loud, hollow thump.
ELLIE:
(Quietly)
Hello, what’s this?
Cautiously, she drags the rug across the floor.
ELLIE:
Huh. I thought so.
She’s discovered a hatch in the floor. The latch rattles and the hinges creak as she opens it.
ELLIE:
What are you hiding under here?
She descends, her shoes loud on a metal ladder, and comes to a stop on a concrete floor. She takes out her camera, and the sound of the flash is sudden and loud, giving an impression of what the light might have been like.
As she talks to herself, her voice is flat in the small space.
ELLIE:
More books. I shouldn’t be surprised.
Another camera flash, followed by her slow footsteps across the concrete.
ELLIE:
(Reading)
True Magick.
Of course. Can’t be an occultist without that one.
(Reading)
De Vermis Mysteriis.
That’s a new one.
She turns a few pages.
ELLIE:
I never thought I’d want Nigel Blackthorne around to explain things.
Maybe Dr. Wilde can read the Latin.
Another camera flash.
ELLIE:
(Reading)
Breath of the Deep.
I’ve heard that one before.
She rummages through some loose paper.
ELLIE:
More Latin.
Another camera flash.
ELLIE:
What’s this? A letter?
She picks up the paper and unfolds it.
ELLIE:
(Reading)
Professor,
JASMINE:
(Narrating, fading in)
I received your message, and I’m keeping the package safe for now, but I worry it’s not as far from danger as you hoped.
I’ve seen some unusual things here, and if your theory is correct, it may explain what is happening. I’ll be careful; please stay safe and contact me again soon.
Jasmine, 501 Main Street, Whitmoor
ELLIE:
The missing assistant.
In Whitmoor, of all places. What are you doing there?
More rummaging through papers, followed by another camera flash.
ELLIE:
This one’s typeset. Looks like some kind of code.
One last camera flash.
ELLIE:
Better get out of here before the authorities arrive and catch me poking around.
She crosses the concrete floor again. A distant, muffled gunshot sounds.
ELLIE:
(Startled gasp)
Scene 6: Int. Milton’s Rare Books, upper floor – Night
The rain continues, filtering in through the broken window. In the distance, a police siren (a pneumatic, hand-cranked one) approaches.
KURT:
The authorities.
Right on time, as always.
ISKANDAR:
I’ll talk to them.
You’ll be all right here?
KURT:
This one’s not going anywhere.
(To MILTON)
He’s not going to say anything, either. Isn’t that right?
MILTON:
Do what you wish.
ISKANDAR:
I’ll come back with the constables.
He leaves, stepping once on broken glass and heading down the wooden staircase.
KURT turn’s MILTON’s chair around with a noisy scrape.
KURT:
What did you do?
MILTON:
You said not to speak.
KURT:
You know what I meant.
What did you do to me? And the doctor? How did you do that?
ERNEST:
Mr. Cross—
MILTON:
It doesn’t matter what I tell you. You won’t listen.
KURT:
You did that to the professor, didn’t you?
Filled his lungs with water.
MILTON:
Is it a confession you’re after?
KURT:
That would be a fine place to start.
MILTON:
Very well.
It matters not what becomes of me. My work here is complete. The new world will dawn regardless of whether I am alive to see it.
KURT:
What are you talking about?
MILTON:
Things are in motion now that cannot be stopped.
KURT:
Are you going to start making sense anytime soon?
The police are here, you know.
MILTON:
You’re stubborn. So was I, once.
I refused to hear the truth.
With a grunt of effort, KURT drags MILTON’s chair toward the window, slamming it against the wall. The sound of rain grows louder. The chair legs scrape against the floor as he tips it toward the windowsill.
MILTON:
(Cry of surprise)
KURT:
I know you’re not afraid of death, or whatever it is you say, but the glass is very sharp and a two-story drop isn’t going to be pleasant. If I get tired, it’s not going to kill you, but it’s going to hurt.
Now would you like to explain yourself?
ERNEST:
He was talking about sacrifices.
The war—he said it was the start. That all those people had to die in order for whatever’s going to happen to, well, happen.
KURT:
That’s—
That’s cold, Mr. Milton.
What about your son?
MILTON:
His death was necessary. As mine will be.
ERNEST:
And Ragnarsson’s?
MILTON:
Yes.
He would have stopped the work. But now it’s too late.
The new world will be born.
KURT:
What is wrong with you?
I thought listening to Nigel was bad.
ERNEST:
Someone put you up to this, right?
I know there’s more people doing—whatever it is you’re doing.
MILTON:
Of course.
You can drop me from this window if you wish. I will speak no more.
Footsteps approach, coming up the stairs.
KURT:
If you insist.
The footsteps quicken as ISKANDAR reaches the landing.
ISKANDAR:
What are you doing?
The legs of MILTON’s chair slam onto the floor.
KURT:
Just a bit of negotiation. Nothing to worry about.
ISKANDAR:
No. We’re not doing this.
The constables are here. They’ll take him into custody.
MILTON:
The rescue wasn’t necessary, Inspector, but I suppose it is appreciated.
ISKANDAR:
I would advise you not to speak.
MILTON:
Where did you come from, might I ask?
ISKANDAR:
(A heavy pause)
Constantinople.
MILTON:
I wonder what horrors you saw there during the war.
Perhaps you will think on them in the days to come.
More footsteps—five or six constables—come up the stairs, interrupting whatever might have been said next and drowning it in a flurry of activity.
Scene 7: Ext. South Bank market – Night
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
The doors to the police car slam shut, and its tires carry it over the wet pavement. The rain has slowed to a drizzle. As the car departs, its siren squeaks and comes to life.
ERNEST:
Is that it, then?
He confessed, didn’t he? He talked about Ragnarsson.
KURT:
Yeah. I guess we’ll see how willing he is to repeat it.
ISKANDAR:
It’s out of our hands now.
KURT:
(Clears throat)
I don’t like this.
ERNEST:
Why? What’s wrong?
KURT:
He did it to you, too, right?
The water.
ERNEST:
(A measured pause)
It…it certainly seemed that way.
KURT:
(With generalized grumpiness)
What’s that supposed to mean?
ERNEST:
I’m only saying that we don’t know exactly what happened.
KURT:
Sure we do.
One second, everything was fine, and the next, I was drowning.
ISKANDAR:
You’re sure you’re all right?
KURT:
Honestly? Not really.
But I can breathe now, so I’ve got that.
ERNEST:
Milton seems like, to the right people, he could be very persuasive.
It doesn’t take a lot to get someone to believe something, even if it’s impossible. Like drowning on dry land.
KURT:
Are you and I the right people, then?
Was Ragnarsson?
ERNEST:
Well, it was an…unusual situation.
I’ve never been tied to a chair before.
KURT:
Inspector, you saw what happened.
You also talked to the coroner who worked on Ragnarsson.
What do you think happened?
ISKANDAR:
I don’t know.
KURT:
Come on. Either you think we’re all hallucinating, or you don’t.
ISKANDAR:
I believe both of you, and Dr. Compton, are of sound mind.
I also believe—
(He stops mid sentence, unsure of how to continue.)
In the distance, the back door to the shop opens. ELLIE hurries across the pavement, her shoes marking a brisk rhythm.
ELLIE:
Good evening, gentlemen.
I’m glad to see none of you were shot.
KURT:
Sorry about the noise, dear.
What were you doing in there?
ELLIE:
Finding the professor’s assistant, among other things.
Here.
A sheet of paper exchanges hands.
KURT:
Whitmoor.
I suppose that’s on the way to Edinburgh. Wonder what she’s doing there.
ELLIE:
There’s also this.
It’s some kind of cipher. I was hoping you and I could take a look at it, Dr. Wilde.
ERNEST:
Sure.
Just…not tonight.
ISKANDAR:
I think we are all due for some rest.
KURT:
Yeah.
Come on, I’ll drive.
In the distance, Big Ben strikes twelve.
Scene 8: Int. University of London laboratory – Day
ERNEST sweeps the lab in a steady rhythm. After a few seconds, the heavy door opens, admitting CARLTON.
CARLTON:
I thought I’d find you here.
Granted, I didn’t exactly look anywhere else.
ERNEST:
Is it six o’clock already?
CARLTON:
Six thirty-four, last I checked.
How are things here? It looks nice, if a little bare.
ERNEST:
I’ve got the lab cleaned up.
Couldn’t tell you when my specimens will be replaced, but at least I have enough samples of the blight.
CARLTON:
You’re still working on that?
ERNEST stops sweeping.
ERNEST:
(Making a decision)
I am.
CARLTON:
I know that look.
It’s not just an assignment for you, is it?
ERNEST:
I suppose it isn’t.
Not since I risked my life for it. Twice now, I think.
CARLTON:
What happened?
ERNEST:
Honestly, I’m not sure.
But I’m certain there’s an answer. Just like there is for the blight.
CARLTON:
If you say so.
Why don’t you buy me a drink, and I’ll help you out with your hypotheses.
By which I mean, I will drink and listen and make the appropriate facial expressions.
ERNEST:
Your services are appreciated, as always.
Scene 9: Int. London tenement – Day
It’s evening, the bell tolling seven in the distance. ISKANDAR sits at his small kitchen table, completing a stack of paperwork; his pen scratches across the page at a slow, deliberate pace.
A pot of water hisses on the stove, preparing to boil. EMILIA sorts through canisters without much regard for the noise, removing them from the cupboards and placing them back.
EMILIA:
Ah, here we are.
I thought you had more coffee.
ISKANDAR:
Be careful.
You could have just asked me to reach it for you. There’s no need to climb up there.
EMILIA’s feet hit the floor. Out of politeness, she’s not wearing shoes.
EMILIA:
Faster to do it this way.
I heard you found the professor’s assistant.
ISKANDAR:
Where did you hear that?
EMILIA:
From Ellie at Sunset Investigations.
She asked about you. She wanted to make sure everything was good after what happened at the bookshop.
ISKANDAR:
What did she tell you about the bookshop?
EMILIA:
Not much. Just that you found the fellow who killed that professor.
ISKANDAR:
(Sigh)
You’re not supposed to know these things.
EMILIA:
What? If she hadn’t told me, you would have.
Eventually.
Besides, I type all your paperwork.
ISKANDAR:
I suppose that’s fair.
He sets the pen down. The water on the stove starts to boil, and EMILIA gives it a stir.
EMILIA:
So what now?
ISKANDAR:
What do you mean?
EMILIA:
Well, Ellie didn’t tell me what you planned to do next, but she made it sound like the case isn’t closed yet.
And that things were very strange at the bookshop.
ISKANDAR:
They were.
I’m not sure I can explain it.
EMILIA:
Well, you’ll tell me if you’re going out of town, right? Preferably in advance?
ISKANDAR:
Of course.
EMILIA:
Coffee’s ready.
I’ll come back in a couple days for that paperwork.
ISKANDAR:
Thank you, Emilia.
You’re the best.
EMILIA:
I know. See you soon.
She pours coffee into a mug, turns off the gas, and then goes to put on her shoes. She leaves before ISKANDAR rises from his chair, closing the door behind her.
ISKANDAR gets up, pushing his chair back from the table, and picks up the coffee from the stove.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
Milton is in custody.
But nothing has been solved, has it?
He takes the coffee back to his table and sits down. His pen scratches a few more words onto the page.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
There are others.
There’s still the blight, ravaging the university lab, and anywhere else it might reach.
And I can’t explain what happened to Ragnarsson, or what Milton did to the others.
(Frustrated sigh)
There’s no such thing as magic.
(A pause, he sets the pen down and sips his coffee.)
The sun’s going down.
He gets up from the table. We hear him walking around the flat and turning on the bathroom faucet, and then splashing water on his face and washing his hands.
He then walks into his bedroom and begins to pray, alone, for the first time in years, beginning with Allahu Akbar. He’s hesitant, from lack of practice and a number of unanswered questions about his long lack of faith. His voice fades out as he continues the recitation.
Scene 10: Int. Central London street – Night
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
KURT arrives outside the Cross and Coin. A cold, wet wind blows as he turns the car off and opens the door.
For a second, he second-guesses himself, realizing what he’s about to do is ridiculous. But he’s come this far.
He gets out of the car and slams the door, and walks a few paces to the tavern door.
NIGEL:
Mr. Cross! Good evening.
KURT:
(In a moderate version of his detective voice)
Good to see you back.
Will hasn’t let you back in yet?
NIGEL:
Alas, no.
But a little rain and wind cannot deter me.
KURT:
Well, that’s good to hear.
(A pause as he looks up and down the street.)
I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.
NIGEL:
I always have time for those seeking the truth.
KURT:
Yeah, yeah.
That thing that you said happened to the professor. The Deep Breath, or whatever it was.
NIGEL:
Spiritus Abyssi.
KURT:
Right. That.
(Dropping out of character)
How do you stop it? Can you, I don’t know, cast some kind of protection spell?
NIGEL:
An excellent question.
I believe there are incantations to that effect, yes.
KURT:
Okay.
So…how do you do it?
NIGEL:
I must consult my books.
If you’d follow me, Mr. Cross, I’m sure we can find the knowledge you seek.
MUSIC: OUTRO.
Back to Episode 6: The Birth of the World to Come
Forward to Episode 8: And In the Lowest Deep, a Lower Deep Opens Wide
Thus concludes the first act! Next episode, and all the subsequent ones, will be all new material never published/posted before, unless you count the module, which I don’t because I still have to do all this writing.
I am hoping to get two more episodes out before I have to go on maternity leave. Wish me luck, and thanks for reading! As always, I welcome any feedback. I’ve already found a couple of lapses in research (telephones in the 1920s did not have rotary dials! You just called the switchboard and told the operator the number) that I’ll have to correct in future drafts.
Space Whales Press 
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