The World in Dissonance (Volume 2)

Chapter 3 - Part 2

Part 2

The laughter continued beneath the floorboards, growing louder with every passing second, until it seemed to emanate from every corner of the house at once. The walls trembled, the windows rattled in their frames, and the scattered manuscripts began crawling across the floor as though an invisible current were dragging them toward the wooden box.

Edmund Vale stood motionless before the table, his face drained of colour. Whatever confidence he had displayed moments earlier had vanished, leaving behind the unmistakable expression of a man who had suddenly realized that the forces he had summoned might no longer be entirely under his control.

Dedicatus, however, was looking at something else.

Her visible eye moved from the black candle to the scattered manuscripts, then toward the open wooden box. She examined the arrangement of the objects, the symbols drawn across the floor, and the peculiar way the disturbances seemed to intensify around certain areas of the room. Her expression gradually became more serious as the individual pieces began to form a coherent picture in her mind.

"Ah, so that's how ya doin' it..."

Beatrice, who had taken shelter beside the doorway, glanced toward her rival.

"Would you care to explain what you have just discovered?"

"Later, Beato. Right now, we have a rather nasty problem to deal with."

"An observation I had already made, thank you."

Dedicatus ignored the remark and turned toward Virgil.

"Inspector!! Get yerself away from the centre of the room! N' don't touch anythin' with strange markin’ on it!"

Blackwood's expression hardened.

"You will explain what is happening here."

"Gladly!! Once we ain't about to get ourselves killed!!”

A violent bang interrupted their exchange as the table lifted several inches from the floor before crashing sideways against the wall. Virgil stepped back, narrowly avoiding a flying fragment of wood.

Dedicatus clicked her tongue.

"Honestly, this is why I hate dealin' with amateurs."

Vale's head snapped toward her.

"Amateur? You know nothing of what I have accomplished!"

"Ya right!! I don't know exactly what ya've accomplished. Not like I care. But I do know that yer ritual's fallin' apart, yer anchor is unstable, n' whatever's on the other side is makin' a right mess of yer house."

The occultist's expression changed. For a brief instant, his eyes betrayed something far more revealing than anger.

Fear.

Dedicatus smiled without the slightest trace of amusement.

"There we go. Now we're gettin' somewhere."

She turned toward Beatrice.

"Beato, listen carefully. I need ya to do exactly what I tell ya, even if what I'm askin' sounds completely mad."

The young aristocrat straightened her back, brushing a few fragments of plaster from her sleeve.

"My dear Dedicatus, considering the circumstances, I should think that qualification has become somewhat redundant."

"Good. First, the manuscripts on the floor. See those sheets with the concentric circles? Don't touch the central one. Move the three sheets around it, startin’ with the one nearest the fireplace. Separate them from the main arrangement."

Beatrice glanced toward the scattered papers.

"You're suggesting that their arrangement is functionally significant."

"More than that... It's part of the ritual's structure. The symbols ain't merely decorations, and the placement ain't arbitrary. Think of 'em as components in a circuit. Ya interrupt the connections, n' the whole configuration starts losin' stability."

"An electrical circuit requires a conducting path. What you're describing sounds more like a system of interdependent conditions."

"Exactly!! Only instead of electricity, we're dealin' with a spiritual manifestation. Different mechanism, similar principle: ya remove a necessary component, n' the system can no longer maintain its previous state."

Beatrice studied the manuscripts once more.

"That is an analogy, not an explanation of the underlying mechanism."

"Congratulations, ya still capable of thinkin' critically while a chair's tryin' to murder ya."

"Someone has to."

Without another word, Beatrice moved toward the papers.

She avoided the broken furniture and carefully approached the nearest manuscript. The symbols drawn across its surface appeared to have been written in several different inks, some faded with age and others disturbingly fresh.

She picked up the first sheet by its unmarked edges and placed it several feet away from the central arrangement. Nothing happened.

She moved the second. The whispers coming from the wooden box immediately faltered.

Beatrice's eyes narrowed.

"That was not a coincidence."

"Nay... Keep goin'!!”

She moved the third manuscript. A tremendous c***k echoed through the room.

Every window shook violently, and the shadows beneath the furniture stretched toward the centre of the floor, lengthening against the direction of the morning light. For a moment, the darkness appeared to possess a depth that the room itself could not possibly accommodate.

Then something moved inside it.

Beatrice froze.

The shape was vaguely human, but its proportions were wrong. Its limbs seemed to extend farther than they should have, and its head tilted at an angle that suggested either a broken neck or a complete disregard for the structure of the human body.

It did not emerge entirely.

Instead, it remained suspended within the darkness, as though something were preventing it from crossing an invisible boundary.

Dedicatus's expression sharpened.

"Don't stare at it for too long, Beato."

"I wasn't aware that looking at something constituted a particular danger."

"Usually, it doesn't. But this ain't a bloody paintin’ in a gallery."

The aristocrat reluctantly tore her gaze away.

"What exactly am I looking at?"

"An overlap.", exclaimed Dedicatus while moving toward the table, carefully avoiding the symbols scattered around its base. "Imagine the room we're standin' in as one state of reality. Now imagine another structure occupyin’ the same coordinates, except it ain't properly accessible from our side. Under ordinary circumstances, the two don't interact in any meaningful way."

"Yet something has caused them to interact.", said Beatrice as if waiting for a confirmation.

"Precisely!! Vale's ritual has established a connection between the two. Think of it as an anchor, keepin' the overlap stable enough for things on the other side to influence our environment."

Beatrice glanced toward the shadow.

"And the entities?"

"The residents of that other structure. Or at least, that's the closest description I can give ya without makin' assumptions about their actual nature."

"Residents of an invisible sanctuary...”, murmured Beatrice. "Sharing the same apparent space as us, but existing under different conditions."

"Now ya gettin' it."

Dedicatus raised a finger.

"But don't mistake the analogy for literal quantum mechanics. I'm usin' the language of superposition to describe the conceptual problem, not claimin' that these things are quantum particles. We ain't conductin' a physics experiment, and Schrödinger's cat isn't gonna crawl outta that box."

"How reassuring."

"Wouldn't want ya gettin' the wrong idea."

Despite her dry response, Beatrice was beginning to understand the distinction Dedicatus was making. The phenomenon behaved as though two incompatible spatial arrangements were temporarily sharing the same location, with the ritual serving as the means by which they had become coupled.

It was not an explanation she could verify scientifically, but it offered a useful framework for predicting what might happen next.

"And if the anchor is disrupted...”, she continued. “The connection should become unstable."

"That's the idea. But we need to be careful. Break the wrong part, n' we might not close the breach. We might make it worse."

Beatrice looked at the wooden box.

"Which is why you instructed me not to touch the central manuscript."

"Exactly!!"

Another wave of force swept across the room.

The chairs rose from the floor, spinning wildly before slamming into the ceiling. One of the doors tore free from its hinges, and a series of violent impacts echoed from the corridor beyond.

Virgil had retreated behind the remaining section of the overturned table. His attention shifted between Vale and the impossible disturbances surrounding him, but he was evidently reluctant to intervene without understanding what he was confronting.

For once, his caution was justified. Dedicatus turned toward him.

"Inspector... If ya value yer life, stay outta the ritual arrangement!!"

Blackwood's jaw tightened.

"I am perfectly capable of determining where I should stand."

"Then determine it somewhere else!!"

Before Virgil could answer, a heavy cabinet lurched toward him.

The Inspector threw himself aside as the furniture crashed against the wall, sending books and splintered wood scattering across the floor.

Dedicatus grimaced.

"That's gonna be a right headache later."

"Your concern for the furniture is touching.”, Virgil called back.

"Not the furniture. The paperwork!!”

Even Beatrice managed a brief, incredulous look at her rival. How Dedicatus could make jokes under such circumstances was beyond her.

Yet the girl was not merely improvising. Every movement she made brought her closer to a specific objective.

The ritual's anchor had to be disrupted, but the connection could not simply be attacked blindly. If the arrangement collapsed while the breach remained open, the entities on the other side might continue exerting their influence without Vale's ritual to contain or direct them.

They needed to break the connection in a controlled manner. And Dedicatus had already realized what the next step required.

"Beato!!”, screamed the girl. “The books on the table!!"

Beatrice turned.

"Which books?"

"The two with the black bindin’!! They're positioned at opposite ends of the diagram. Move the one nearest the window, then bring the other one down!"

"Bring it down how?"

"Drop it!! Throw it!! This one ain’t give a darn, just get it away from the table!"

Beatrice seized the first book and carried it several steps away. The moment she removed it, the whispers from the box became louder, rising into a chorus of distorted voices.

She placed the book on the floor. The voices changed pitch. Dedicatus immediately noticed.

"Naisu!! Now the other one!!"

Beatrice picked up the second volume. It was heavier than she had anticipated, its leather binding stiff with age. She turned toward the table, intending to move it to the opposite side of the room.

But Vale suddenly shouted.

"DO NOT TOUCH THAT BOOK!"

The force that followed struck Beatrice squarely in the chest. She was hurled backward, her body crashing against the edge of the doorway before she fell to the floor.

"BEATO!!"

Dedicatus abandoned the table and rushed toward her.

The aristocrat girl grimaced, one hand pressed against her ribs.

"I'm quite all right.”, she managed, although her strained breathing suggested otherwise.

"That's a terrible lie."

"I have suffered worse indignities."

"Yer gonna have to tell me about those later."

Dedicatus helped her sit upright before turning toward Vale. The expression on her face had changed entirely.

The teasing, the casual amusement, the seemingly careless mannerisms had vanished. What remained was the cold, calculating attention of a girl who had finally decided that the time for games was over.

"Aight, Edmund. Ya’re done."

The occultist laughed hysterically.

"You cannot stop what has already been invited into this world!"

"Maybe not by myself.", said Dedicatus as she raised her hand and pointed toward the manuscripts. "But ya made one mistake."

Vale's laughter faltered.

"Ya think ya've summoned somethin' ya can control. Ya think the ritual belongs to ya cuz ya’re the one who prepared it. But all ya've really done is create a connection, n' now ya're standin' in the middle of it like a fool who opened a door without checkin' what's on the other side."

She stepped forward.

"Tell me somethin', Edmund. When ya first heard those whispers, did ya know what they were sayin'?"

Vale's expression twisted.

"Silence!"

"Did ya know?"

"I said SILENCE!"

The room shuddered violently. The shadow beneath the floor expanded, spreading across the walls like a stain. The distorted figure within it began forcing itself forward, its elongated fingers emerging from the darkness.

Dedicatus watched it without blinking.

"That's what I thought.", murmured the girl as she turned toward Beatrice. "Beato, the book!!"

The aristocrat, still recovering from the impact, looked down at the volume in her hands.

"You're certain?"

"Completely."

Beatrice rose, gritting her teeth against the pain in her ribs. Rather than attempting to carry the book away, she lifted it with both hands and brought it down against the edge of the stone fireplace.

The binding split. Several loose sheets spilled from between the pages.

Vale screamed.

The black candle extinguished instantly.

The entire house lurched as though its foundations had been struck by an enormous hammer.

And from inside the wooden box came a sound so piercing that Beatrice instinctively covered her ears.

Dedicatus did not retreat. Instead, she began to speak; not in English.

The words that emerged from her lips belonged to an older language, each syllable pronounced with deliberate precision. Latin flowed into Greek, the two languages woven together into a measured sequence of invocations and declarations.

Her voice was not particularly loud, yet it carried through the room with remarkable clarity.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti..."

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The whispers inside the box grew louder. Dedicatus continued, her voice unwavering.

"Lux in tenebris lucet, et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt."

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

The words were drawn from the opening chapter of the Gospel of John, a passage that Dedicatus rarely invoked in her investigations. She was an expert in psychology and philosophy, but also in religious and esoteric knowledge. Unlike her twin sister Alyss, she preferred knowledge that could be examined, categorized, and applied with precision. Biblical verses were not a substitute for understanding the mechanics of a supernatural phenomenon.

But sometimes, knowledge and faith were not mutually exclusive. And sometimes, the right words could serve as a weapon.

The air around her trembled.

Dedicatus moved toward the wooden box, speaking another verse.

"Quoniam Deus lux est, et tenebrae in eo non sunt ullae."

For God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all, echoing the First Epistle of John, chapter one, verse five.

The voices shrieked. The shadow recoiled from the centre of the room, its edges flickering as though the structure sustaining it had begun to unravel.

Beatrice stared at her rival.

She had heard Dedicatus discuss theology before, often with a familiarity that exceeded what she would have expected from someone of her age. But hearing her speak Scripture in the middle of an actual supernatural disturbance was another matter entirely.

"Since when do you quote the Bible?", demanded the aristocrat girl.

"Since the occasion calls for it!!", casually replied the eldest Liddel sister. “Tho, don’t get me wrong, quotin’ the Bible is Alyss’s domain, mine usually is ‘bout helpin’ them as a walkin’ encyclopedia.”

"That is not an explanation!"

"Then consider it a demonstration!"

Dedicatus reached the table and seized the rusted clasp of the wooden box.

The moment her fingers touched it, an overwhelming pressure descended upon her. Her knees nearly buckled. A voice whispered directly beside her ear.

It spoke in a language she did not recognize, yet the meaning seemed to crawl into her mind regardless.

‘Open it.’

Dedicatus gritted her teeth.

‘Open it.’

The whisper became a chorus.

‘Open it. Open it. Open it.’

For the briefest instant, she saw something beyond the darkness: a vast, inverted structure whose distant towers resembled the architecture of a city reflected in black water. Figures moved between its impossible buildings, their silhouettes stretching across a sky without stars. It was rare for the girl who didn’t have any of the Gifts of The Holy Spirit to experience a vision like that.

Then the vision vanished. Dedicatus's expression hardened.

"So that's what ya want."

She released the clasp.

"Nay!!"

The word was quiet, but absolute.

She stepped away from the box and began reciting another passage, this time from the Gospel of Mark.

"Omnia enim quae sunt in tenebris manifestabuntur, et quae occulta sunt fient manifesta."

For there is nothing hidden that will not be brought to light, drawing upon Mark 4:22.

The whispering faltered.

Beatrice understood what Dedicatus was attempting.

She was not merely trying to silence the voices. She was disrupting the sequence of actions and symbols that maintained the phenomenon, forcing the ritual away from the conditions under which it had been established.

The Latin and Greek phrases served as more than declarations of faith in this context. Dedicatus was using them as structured invocations, deliberately introducing a competing pattern into the ritual's progression.

Whether the effect came from the words themselves, their spiritual significance, or the manner in which Dedicatus understood and employed them, Beatrice could not determine.

But the results were becoming increasingly difficult to deny.

"Dedicatus!", Beatrice called. "The remaining manuscripts are moving toward the box!"

"I see 'em!"l!”

"Should I remove them?"

"Not yet!! Wait for my signal!!”

The eldest Liddel sister took a deep breath, then continued her chant.

The shadow on the walls writhed.

The distorted figure struggled to emerge, its long fingers scraping against an invisible boundary. The floorboards groaned beneath the strain, and cracks began appearing in the plaster around the windows.

Vale stumbled backward, clutching his head.

"Stop! STOP!"

Dedicatus ignored him.

Her knowledge of demonology had taught her that an entity's name could carry profound significance in spiritual matters, but she did not know the identity of the thing confronting them. She would not invent a name simply to satisfy the illusion of control.

Instead, she focused on what she did know. The ritual had created an anchor. The anchor maintained the connection. And the connection was now destabilizing.

"Beato...”, shouted the young maiden. "NOW!"

Beatrice acted immediately.

She seized the remaining manuscripts and tore them away from the central arrangement, scattering them across the room. Then, following Dedicatus's earlier instructions, she seized the brass bowl and hurled it against the stone hearth.

The bowl shattered.

Its contents scattered across the floor.

At the same instant, Dedicatus drove her foot against the table's central support. The wooden structure collapsed. The central diagram split apart. And the connection broke.

The sound that followed was unlike anything they had heard before.

It was not an explosion, nor a scream, nor even the crash of falling furniture. It was a deep, resonant silence, as though the entire house had been swallowed by an immense void.

Every object suspended in the air dropped at once. The chairs crashed to the floor. The papers settled. The shadows retreated from the walls. And the distorted figure vanished.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then the wooden box gave one final, violent shudder before falling silent.

Dedicatus stood motionless beside the ruined table, breathing heavily.

Beatrice slowly lowered her hands.

"Is it over?"

Dedicatus examined the room.

The candle remained extinguished. The manuscripts no longer moved. The air had lost its crushing pressure, and the unnatural darkness that had filled the corners of the house had disappeared.

"Looks like it."

"Looks like it?"

"Well, I ain't exactly gonna write a scientific paper claimin' we've permanently eliminated every possible supernatural threat in the vicinity."

Beatrice stared at her.

"That is perhaps the most reasonable thing you have said all morning."

"Yer welcome!!"

Then, Dedicatus turned toward Vale.

The occultist had fallen to his knees beside the table, his face pale and his breathing ragged. Whatever force had sustained the phenomenon was gone, leaving him looking considerably less formidable than he was moments earlier.

Virgil emerged from behind the overturned furniture.

His expression was murderous.

"Edmund Vale."

The man looked up.

"You are under arrest."

Vale attempted to rise but Dedicatus's eye narrowed as she noticed it.

"Beato!!”

"Yes?"

"Left side."

Beatrice understood immediately.

She moved without hesitation, approaching Vale from his left as Dedicatus advanced from the right.

The occultist barely had time to turn before Dedicatus delivered a hard kick to his side, driving him away from the broken table. At the same moment, Beatrice stepped in from the opposite direction and used a swift, controlled strike to throw off his balance, following with a forceful blow that sent him sprawling onto the floor.

Vale landed heavily and groaned.

Before he could recover, Virgil seized his arms and forced them behind his back, securing him with handcuffs.

"That...”, the Inspector said coldly. "...was entirely unnecessary."

Dedicatus dusted off her skirt.

"Disagree!! He was about to get back up."

"You could have warned me before attacking him."

"Would ya have preferred a formal invitation!?"

Virgil glared at her.

Beatrice, meanwhile, adjusted her clothes with an expression of aristocratic dignity that seemed almost absurd amid the wreckage.

"I must admit, Inspector, that the circumstances were somewhat unusual."

"Miss Ashcroft, I am beginning to suspect that you and Miss Liddel consider the word 'unusual' an excuse for nearly everything."

"Not everything.”, Beatrice replied smoothly. "Only the things that cannot adequately be described otherwise."

For a moment, Virgil appeared genuinely unable to decide whether he was being mocked. Then he turned his attention back to Vale.

"Take him outside. I will arrange for a proper examination of this property."

Two uniformed officers who had remained near the entrance entered the room and helped the Inspector secure the prisoner.

Dedicatus watched them go before speaking.

"Inspector, hold on a moment."

Virgil stopped.

"What now?"

"I need a little time with Vale."

"No."

The answer was immediate.

Dedicatus sighed.

"Ya haven't even heard the request yet!"

"I have heard enough of your requests to anticipate the inconvenience they will cause."

"Aw, that's hurtful."

"Miss Liddel."

"Fine, fine. Lemme rephrase. I want a brief conversation with him at the station, after you've finished the necessary procedures."

Virgil's expression remained cold.

"For what purpose?"

"There's somethin' I need to ask him."

"Something related to this incident?"

"Not exactly."

"Then the answer is still no."

Dedicatus tilted her head.

"Inspector, how many times have I saved yer life this mornin'?"

Virgil's eyes narrowed.

"That is irrelevant."

"Once when the bookshelf came down. Once when that chair nearly took yer head off. N' once more when ya nearly got caught in the second wave of debris."

"That last incident was hardly a deliberate rescue."

"Yer welcome anyway."

Beatrice covered her mouth briefly, concealing what might have been the faintest trace of amusement.

Dedicatus continued.

"Now, I'm not askin' ya to hand me the prisoner, interfere with yer investigation, or let me conduct some private interrogation without supervision. I want a few minutes to ask him questions about a matter that may be connected to some ongoin’ cases."

Virgil studied her.

"What cases?"

"One I can't discuss here."

"Then why should I permit you access to a prisoner in my custody?"

"Because I saved yer life."

"That is not a legal argument."

"No, but it's a rather persuasive moral one."

"Miss Liddel—"

"N’ before ya say it, I know the difference between gratitude and obligation. I'm not askin' ya to compromise yer duties. I'm askin' ya to hear me out before ya decide whether the request is unreasonable."

Virgil fell silent.

That, at least, was a more respectable argument.

Beatrice stepped forward.

"Inspector Blackwood, I believe there is a reasonable compromise available."

Virgil turned toward her.

"I am listening."

"You retain complete custody of Mr Vale. You determine the time, location, and conditions of any interview. Dedicatus may submit her questions to you in advance, or you may remain present throughout the conversation. If anything arises that interferes with your investigation, you may terminate the interview immediately."

She paused, allowing the proposal to settle.

"That way, your authority remains entirely intact, while Dedicatus is given an opportunity to pursue a potentially relevant lead."

Virgil considered her words. It was a sound proposal... Annoyingly sound.

"And what exactly makes you believe the information she seeks is relevant?"

Beatrice's expression remained composed.

"Because Dedicatus anticipated that Mr Vale's activities might intersect with another investigation before we arrived here. She did not come to this property merely out of curiosity. Whatever else you may think of her methods, she has demonstrated that she possesses information worth examining."

Dedicatus gave her rival an approving glance.

"See!? That's why I bring the smart one along."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothin'."

Virgil looked between them.

Two brilliant young women, both evidently accustomed to reasoning their way through problems, had just presented him with a proposal that preserved his authority while making a refusal considerably harder to justify.

He was experienced enough to recognize the manoeuvre.

And intelligent enough to appreciate its construction, even if he disliked being on the receiving end of it.

"Very well.”, he said at last. "I will consider permitting a brief interview at the station, once the preliminary questioning is complete. I will be present, and I reserve the right to terminate it at any point."

Dedicatus smiled.

"Deal!!"

"Do not mistake this for permission to interfere with my investigation."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Virgil gave her a long, disbelieving stare.

"I sincerely doubt that."

Then finally, the officers escorted Vale outside.