The Parliament of the Dead (11 page)

The Parliament
of the Dead

“Ladies, gentlemen, ghouls, and poltergeists, I call to order this Extraordinary Meeting of the Parliament of the Dead.” An elderly figure in dusty legal attire looked around at the assembled group of around two hundred ghosts.  He was the late‘Hanging’Judge Henry Hawkins, and the chairperson of the Parliament since 1925.

Some of the faces in the crowd were permanently contorted into ghastly grimaces, some had no faces, or more accurately no heads, but all of those who could possess a range of facial expressions looked worried.

It was midnight.  They were gathered in the House of Lords at Westminster.  The ghosts of London chose this location for their Parliament because it was large enough to accommodate them all.  There were also ghosts of at least a dozen lords who snoozed away their afterlife on the chairs of the House and could not be persuaded to move to any other location.

“Before we get down to the matter in hand,”continued the Judge’s bewigged ghost,“does everyone have the minutes of the previous meeting?”

Several of the assembly unenthusiastically held up an inch-thick wad of mouldy papers that recorded every word spoken at the last meeting of the Parliament.  Several other ghosts looked sheepishly through their feet.

A man dressed as a cavalier from the seventeenth century called out,“Surely we don’t have to read the minutes at an
extraordinary
meeting - only
regular
meetings?”

“At our last extraordinary meeting, which you may remember was to deal with the influx of military ghosts at the time of the Second World War,”Judge Hawkins responded, with the air of someone delighted to show off their superior knowledge of procedure,“we did indeed read the minutes of the 1925 regular Parliament.  I recall we made 116 major, and 1,327 minor amendments to their text.”

“Yes,”muttered the Cavalier under his breath,“and you suggested nearly all of them.”

The ghost with the leather apron and red hair who had threatened Iona two nights previously rose to his feet an growled,“This is a waste of time.”

“Ha!”cried a thin wizened figure, dressed in rags with rattling chains hanging from his wrists and ankles, “We’ve got no shortage of
time
Mr. Todd.”

“I’m not so sure, me clankin’friend,”Mr. Todd’s ghost replied, “we’re’ere to discuss the three exorcists who’ave been banishin’ghosts from coast to coast.  They’ave already cut short the time of several of our number.  We must act.”

There was a mumble of approval.

“Quite right,”piped up the Grey Monk.  When he spoke several of the other ghosts rolled their eyes (some literally popped out and rolled along the floor).  He did not notice the reception his words had received as he continued,  “Yes, quite right!  I was attacked in my monastery.  I would have faded out without Mr. Turpin’s help; he knew a thing or two about the life of the dead.”

“Procedure,”rumbled Judge Hawkins,“we must follow procedure.” He waited for silence before continuing,“Now the minutes of the previous meeting…”

“Quite right,”said the Grey Monk again,“procedure must be followed.”

The Judge cleared his throat and began to read. “The minutes of the thirty-first demicentennial meeting of the Parliament of the Dead, held in the House of Lords, Westminster, the thirteenth day of January, the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and twenty five.  Those in attendance were Billie Carlton, Henry Chaucer, George Overs, George the Phantom Cavalier, Mary Shelley, Gary the Gibbering Ghoul of Greenwich, Lord Horatio Nelson, Sweeney Todd, Mrs. Margery Lovett...”

Several of the assembled ghosts fell into the sort of bored stupor that only those who have been dead for more than a century can master.  The list of names seemed endless.

“Sir Walter Walton, The Wailing Nun, Edgar Allen Poe, Nubkheperra, Henutmehyt, the unnamed Singer of Amen Re, the Man in Grey (the Theatre Royal), the Man in Grey (the Pig and Whistle public house)…”

“This is ridiculous!” Mr. Todd was on his feet again. “The last bloomin’meeting took seventy-two hours, it will take longer than that just to read the bloomin’minutes.  Our people are being attacked!  I say we fight back, and we fight back now!”

“Quite right,”chipped in the Grey Monk again,“we must take up arms against our oppressor!” Then he continued quietly to his headless neighbour“I’m quite the dab hand with a chainsaw you know!”

“But first...”Judge Hawkins tried to start again, only to be interrupted by a figure that seemed to be made out of rags and patches.

It was Nubkheperra, one of the mummies who had been attacked in the British Museum.  His body had been all but destroyed; it would take months for museum staff to put it together again; in the meantime Nubkheperra had animated some dirty bandages he had found in the rubbish bins of the local hospital.  When he spoke his voice was muffled and angry. “They exorcised my good friend Henutmehyt.  We had known each other for five thousand years.”

“Ooh!”gasped the Grey Monk nodding his head; but the nods turned to shakes as Judge Hawkins allowed himself to be drawn into the argument.

“Then we will scare them away.  It’s what we
do
!”

“They are not scared of the living or the dead,”called out a severed head propped up on a chair in the front row.  (This particular head regularly appeared in the laps of female members of the audience at the Lyceum Theatre.)

Suddenly the room fell silent.  No one had seen him enter, but all eyes were suddenly fixed on Arthur... and the two living people by his side.

“Breathers!”hissed a voice from the gallery,“Turpin’s brought breathers to the Parliament of the Dead!”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Breathers

Tiggy felt as if her feet were not touching the ground as she walked towards the Houses of Parliament.  She had seen many strange things in her job as a reporter, but everything had made some kind of rational sense until tonight: until this strange man had arrived at her door and told her about the world of ghosts; until the man had proved that the supernatural existed by dissolving into dust in front of her eyes, and then reforming.

Tiggy wondered if this was what it felt like to lose your mind.

*   *   *

Iona was unaware of her mother’s anxiety.  She was amazed at the ease with which her mother could gain access to the House of Lords at midnight.  Her film company was doing a documentary on the Lords and Tiggy claimed she needed to make some urgent adjustments to the cameras for the morning’s filming.  Luckily it was a security guard she had met before, and he fell straight for Tiggy’s feigned girly, scatterbrained routine.

“I should have set up the camera angles yesterday…”- a flutter of the eyelashes and a downward glance. “…and I’ll lose my job if it’s not ready first thing tomorrow...”- a bite of the lip and a pleading look into the guard’s eyes.

Iona watched in disbelief at her mother’s impersonation of a helpless female.

As the guard waved them through Tiggy winked at Iona. “Men!”she whispered to her daughter,“They can’t resist rescuing a feeble woman.”

As they walked towards the chamber of the House of Lords, Arthur materialized out of a swirling cloud of dust and quickly fell into step beside them.  Tiggy looked at him in wonder and adjusted her satchel.  Her cover for gaining entrance had been setting up the cameras.  She had brought a camera in her bag, the one she used for‘undercover’filming.  She was here to help Iona’s friends, but she could not suppress her journalistic instinct, so turned the camera to
record
.

*   *   *

A tall man stood with his back to them in front of the wooden door that led to the chamber.  By the time he noticed Iona, Tiggy and Arthur they had already opened the door and stepped into the Parliament.

In the past few days Iona had experienced some alarming and bizarre things.  Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the Parliament of the Dead.  The seats of the House were filled with ghosts.  Their costumes spanned centuries; their faces (or lack of faces) betrayed hundreds of different and gruesome means of meeting their death.  Some, like Arthur, could be mistaken for the living; some were transparent; some glowed with an unnatural light; some were barely visible, like patches of sickly discoloured air.  But most disturbing of all was the fact that they were all looking at her.

*   *   *

Judge Hawkins looked frightened for a moment, then his pale face grew red with fury. “Get those vile breathers out of here at once!”

No one moved.  Iona and Tiggy looked at the ghosts in amazement and fear, and the ghosts looked back with terror and dismay.  Only Judge Hawkins seemed capable of any action, as he continued to shout:“Get them out of here, no living person has attended this Parliament for over two millennia!  This is an outrage!”

“Judge Hawkins,”Arthur began in a commanding voice,“I fully appreciate the gravity of our actions; I have brought these breathers here because you must listen to what this one has to say.” He pointed to Iona, who suddenly felt as if her insides could not decide whether they wanted to escape from the top or bottom of her body.

In their rush to get to the Parliament on time she had not considered how they would tell the assembly that they were in danger.  It had not occurred to her that it would be she who would tell the news. 

Judge Hawkins objected on the grounds that Iona was alive, and that she was not a member of the Parliament, and that what she had to say was not on the agenda.  But the actual members wanted an explanation, and after a brief argument, there was hush.

Iona felt her mother give her arm an encouraging squeeze and realised that everyone was leaning forward in their seats to hear what she had to say.

She cleared her throat.

“OK, I know you don’t want me here, but this is important.” Iona cleared her throat again. “Some creepy priests are going to attack this meeting.  Tonight.  You must escape.” Iona looked at the ghosts looking at her. “Em,
now
.”

“This is ridiculous, these priests could not attack us,”Judge Hawkins was speaking again, “no breathers could ever discover the time or place of our meeting.”

“Iona and her mother are here tonight,”countered Arthur.

“Yes, but
you
brought them,”Judge Hawkins adjusted his wig,“and such a breach of protocol cannot go unpunished.”

Arguments erupted throughout the assembly again.  A few poltergeists got hold of some copies of the minutes and sprayed them all over the room.  A severed head joined the maelstrom, and having been flung the full length of the hall, it was followed by a leg.

“SHUT UP!” Iona’s yell silenced the hall and echoed eerily. “Look, they are going to attack you, any minute now: you must go if you want to live.” Tiggy gave Iona a painful nudge in the ribs. “I mean if you want to continue being dead but still able to do stuff.”

“She’s telling the truth!” Arthur added,“there is no time to lose, we must go.”

Just as the first ghosts began to fade out or drift through the walls there was a sudden bang, and the Parliament began to fill with thick black smoke.  A moment later the sprinkler system clicked into action.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Mass Exorcism

Some of the ghosts who had been flying up to leave through the ceiling were the first to be exorcised.  They were hit by the specially consecrated holy water the exorcists had put in the sprinkler system.  The drops burned holes in their spectral bodies and with horrible screams and wails they disappeared.

The exorcists had used a ritual to seal the floor, so no one could escape through the ground.  Many ghosts who tried, ricocheted back into the air.  Several of the distinguished undead, creatures of the night, who had haunted England for centuries, simply disappeared before they had even realised what had been happening.    Every possible source of shelter was suddenly of great consequence.  Dozens dived under the clerk’s table in the middle of the room.  Their bodies overlapped and moulded into strange shapes as they cowered for cover.

It only took a few seconds for Iona to comprehend the horrific scene; she tore off her coat to fling it over the nearest ghosts to protect them from the killing rain.  Tiggy followed her example.  Iona looked around trying desperately to think of some other way to help.  She turned to Arthur who had been beside her a few moments before.  She spotted him a few feet away with a cushion on his head and then looked in horror as his shape dissolved.  The cushion was snatched from the air by another ghost before it could fall to the floor.

Some of the poltergeists were using the papers that just moments before they had been flinging through the air in mischief, as a shelter for their friends to escape.  For a short time the papers made a moderately effective roof.  Those who were able to make it to the walls seemed able to drift through them.  Whatever force that was making the floor impervious had clearly not been applied everywhere.  Then the water began to affect the poltergeists.  One by one they started to explode in blasts of fragmented light and soggy paper.

*   *   *

After about a minute of chaos the doors to the chamber burst open, and figures with the shaven heads and black cloaks of the Third Order of St Cyril, began to fire shotguns into the remaining ranks of the Parliament.

Iona ducked behind one of the benches, next to her mother, who pointed the camera in her bag towards the invaders.  Every door was blocked, and as more monks stormed into the room with military precision, their guns herded the rapidly dissolving ghosts into the centre.

Iona heard a slicing noise behind her and turned to see the ghost of Sweeney Todd.  He had used his razor to cut himself a makeshift cloak from the red leather that covered the benches.  He winked at Iona, holding a finger to his lips to signal her to be quiet.  Then he leapt with supernatural agility onto the shoulders of one of the monks.  Iona flinched as the‘cutthroat’razor lived up to its name, and the monk collapsed clutching his bleeding neck.  With another bound Mr. Todd leapt from the crumpling body and out through the door.