Gaslight Arcanum: Uncanny Tales of Sherlock Holmes
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
"MY NAME IS SHERLOCK HOLMES. IT IS MY BUSINESS TO KNOW WHAT OTHERS DO NOT."
In the dark lurk horrible secrets. Long buried and hidden from prying eyes are the twilight tales of the living and the dead - and those that lie in between.
From the comfort of the Seine to the chill blast of arctic winds, from candlelit monasteries to the callous and uncaring streets of Las Vegas are found arcane tales of men, monsters and their evil...
THERE IS A MYSTERY ABOUT THIS WHICH STIMULATES THE IMAGINATION; WHERE THERE IS NO IMAGINATION THERE IS NO HORROR.
The stink of a Paris morgue, the curve of a devil's footprint, forbidden pages torn from an infernal tome, madness in a dead woman's stare, a lost voice from beneath the waves and the cold indifference of an insect's feeding - all hold cryptic clues for Sherlock Holmes, the original dark-knight detective, as he drags the hidden horrors kicking and screaming into the light!
"Gaslight Arcanum: Uncanny Tales of Sherlock Holmes" features twelve new stories of the supernatural that push the Great Detective outside the conventional into the fantastic, written by:
Simon K. Unsworth
Lawrence C. Connolly
Cover art by Academy Award winner Dave Elsey (Wolfman). Frontispiece by Mike Mignola (Hellboy). Interior illustrations by Luke Eidenschink
Gaslight Arcanum is the fifth anthology these editors have devoted to Sherlock Holmes' stories. Two previous volumes, Gaslight Grimoire: Fantastic Tales of Sherlock Holmes, and Gaslight Grotesque: Nightmare Tales of Sherlock Holmes also explored the dark-side of Holmes' pastiches.
can look up how well it turned out. Canada is still in the Empire, last I paid attention, though I’ve no idea why. The place has nothing worth shooting (unless you count Inuit and sasquatch which, at that, I might) and boasts fifty thousand trees to every woman. When a bold Fenian’s proposal of an alliance — with our end of it providing the funds — is rejected, he acts exactly like a music hall mick refused credit for drink. Hearty, exploitative friendliness curdles into wheedling desperation
but the broken-backed corpse left on our doorstep in a laundry basket probably served the same function. Runty Reg wouldn’t be at his post from now on. So, I gathered the interested parties all knew their most precious preciouses were arrayed on our sideboard. “I trust we’ve reinforcements coming,” I said. The Professor arched an eyebrow. “This little lot don’t play tiddlywinks,” I continued. “Runty’s liable to be just the first casualty. Consider that stand which has just set up across the
evening in the basement of Trelawny House — it was hard to credit that Margaret could preside over anything more chaotically perverted than the piss-up which follows the Army-Navy brawl. De Marnac, a foreigner, spat. “I won’t tell you where the Falcon is,” I swore — knowing that, realistically, I’d tell him before he got to the fingers of my right hand. I can stick more pain than most but I’ve tortured enough to know everyone talks in the end. “It’s on your Professor’s sideboard, silly,” said
she reached inside, and from a shelf took down a pinkish stone of irregular, angular shape, a little larger than a man’s fist. This she presented to my friend. He turned it over once in his hands, and set it back upon the desk. A confident smile now transformed his face. “It is my happy duty to inform you,” he said at once, “that the man you knew as Hayden will never bother you again; you may depend upon it.” Dracula paused here in his narration. “In a moment I was able to add my own
Parliament who couldn’t explain why he was in the hansom with two tight-trousered post office boys and had to resign his seat. A fine night’s work, all round. Carew thought about it for a moment. “They are in London. The brown priests. The yeti. They mean to kill me and take back their green eye.” “So you have said.” “They nearly had me in Paddington two nights ago.” The Professor said nothing. “Consider this an after-the-fact consultation, Moriarty,” said Carew, taking a plunge. “I don’t