Henry Neville- The Geist Therapist

8. The Thames Spectre: Chapter One

The figure turned to face the river and scanned the buildings and lanterns on the far side, "Why am I here?" It asked, mainly to itself.

"Let's go, Richard, please," Elizabeth begged.

"Listen to your wife, Mr Allan," the spirit said firmly. "No good will come of staying here."

"Are we to just leave you? I feel like we should help you in some way."

The figure turned back to face him, "I have little use for the help you could provide. I must find out why I am here, who brought me here, and why?"

Mr Allan wanted more than anything to leave and see to his wife's safety, but he felt an obligation to help someone that was lost. "I fear, I have a public duty to help you in your time of need."

The glow surrounding the figure began to illuminate brighter, he was growing frustrated with the presence of the young, irritable couple. "Leave now," he said, slightly raising his voice.

Elizabeth pulled on her husband's arm, "Richard, I think we should go."

"Yes, alright, darling. One moment," Mr Allan let go of his wife and stepped closer to the spirit. "Where are you from?" He asked.

In return the spirit became angrier and brighter, "London," it said hoarsely. "Now leave me be!"

"Richard?" Mrs Allan said uncertainly. She began stepping backwards, ready to turn and run for her life. The light became bright and she had difficulty seeing her husband.

"Leave!" The spirit screamed.

Suddenly, shards of brick were coming at them from all angles. Elizabeth screamed her husband's name again but could no longer see him. Overwhelmed with fright, she really did turn on her heels and run. She ran as fast as she could in her boots, not looking back to see if her husband was able to follow her.

***

A New Case Arrives

"You need to get back to some of these, Doctor," Polly said as she dropped files onto the desk of her new boss. His study was a miniature room in the back of his house in Fulham. It contained a desk and chair, a large single book shelf, mostly containing books of engineering and Philosophy, and a minibar with glass and bottles of gin and other spirits. A stack of papers of various content involving his works, engineering and soon-to-be inventions sat on one end of his desk. The end of his desk stood a small stack of his favourite medium, penny dreadfuls.

Henry feigned looking up at them, "Henry, please," he replied. "When did you let yourself in?"

"Henry," she nodded. "I've been here for several hours. You do know it's coming on for eleven, don't you? Will you tell me which of these you want me to write a letter of reply to. They are growing in number by the day."

"All of them, of course. We don't leave a single spirit unrested," Henry replied while checking his pocket watch. "Crikey, is that the time?"

Polly also placed a newspaper with them, "There was a murder down by the Thames last night. Want to investigate?"

Henry eyed the paper suspiciously, "Anything of interest to us, this murder?"

"One reported seeing a floating man, but he was debunked with a case of mania," Polly replied casually.

"Hysteria," Henry smiled. "The tabloids promote the most horrendous nonsense."