Gaslight Arcanum: Uncanny Tales of Sherlock Holmes

By Charles Prepolec

"MY identify IS SHERLOCK HOLMES. it truly is MY enterprise to grasp WHAT OTHERS DO NOT."

at nighttime lurk terrible secrets and techniques. lengthy buried and hidden from prying eyes are the twilight stories of the residing and the lifeless - and people who lie in between.

From the relief of the Seine to the chilliness blast of arctic winds, from candlelit monasteries to the callous and uncaring streets of Las Vegas are chanced on arcane stories of fellows, monsters and their evil...

there's a secret approximately THIS WHICH STIMULATES THE mind's eye; the place there isn't any mind's eye there is not any HORROR.

The stink of a Paris morgue, the curve of a devil's footprint, forbidden pages torn from an infernal tome, insanity in a lifeless woman's stare, a misplaced voice from underneath the waves and the chilly indifference of an insect's feeding - all carry cryptic clues for Sherlock Holmes, the unique dark-knight detective, as he drags the hidden horrors kicking and screaming into the light!

"Gaslight Arcanum: Uncanny stories of Sherlock Holmes" gains twelve new tales of the supernatural that push the nice Detective outdoor the traditional into the glorious, written by:

Stephen Volk
Christopher Fowler
Kim Newman
Paul Kane
Simon ok. Unsworth
Tom English
Tony Richards
William Meikle
Fred Saberhagan
Kevin Cockle
Lawrence C. Connolly
Simon Clark

Cover artwork through Academy Award winner Dave Elsey (Wolfman). Frontispiece by way of Mike Mignola (Hellboy). inside illustrations through Luke Eidenschink


Gaslight Arcanum is the 5th anthology those editors have dedicated to Sherlock Holmes' stories. Two earlier volumes, Gaslight Grimoire: terrific stories of Sherlock Holmes, and Gaslight gruesome: Nightmare stories of Sherlock Holmes additionally explored the dark-side of Holmes' pastiches.

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I protested. “But, he was once struck down with a stone…” “I was once looking,” acknowledged Dracula softly, “at a decision Arizona specimen of petrified wooden. ” * * * * * FRED SABERHAGAN is the writer of many well known technology fiction and fable books together with the Berserker sequence, Swords trilogy and misplaced Swords sequence. a unique tip of the deerstalker for the vintage novels The Holmes-Dracula dossier and Séance for a Vampire. “The Executioner” via Lawrence C. Connolly representation by means of Luke Eidenschink The Executioner through Lawrence C. Connolly I aroused from sleep in an overstuffed mattress, in a chamber higher than the complete of my London rooms. Coal burned within the hearth, however the major resource of sunshine got here from electrical bulbs in wall-mounted sconces, each one trailing a cord that snaked alongside the wall ahead of vanishing right into a gap beside a curtained window. a cupboard stood open close to the hearth. A tweed swimsuit hung inside of. Beside the cupboard, on a dressing desk, lay an array of non-public goods: blouse, collar, tie, leather-based case. of those, all however the case looked to be mine. How they and that i had emerge as the following, I had no notion. Nor did i do know the place the following used to be. there has been a darkness in me, an vacancy that urged I had slept some distance longer than a unmarried evening. but I recalled no goals, purely the far away stories of a cliff, water, and the physique of a guy damaged on jagged rocks. I had tracked him around the continent, seven hundred miles to a precipice within the Swiss mountains. The chase had ended there, with him mendacity useless on the base of a cataract, and that i take note taking a look down at him, looking at his physique develop higher, increasing for my part as though his damaged is still have been emerging towards me. yet truthfully it used to be I who was once relocating, hurtling downward, nonetheless pursuing him while he lay smashed under the falls. after which, simply because the pace of my plunge diminished his physique to a blur, I hit the water. After that, I remembered not anything. I driven again the covers and attempted getting up. My physique ached, the discomfort worsening as I swung my legs over the aspect of the mattress, taking a look down at what must have been the ground. yet in that immediate, it used to be as though I have been again at the cliff, wasting my grip on a jagged ledge…. I blinked. The reminiscence receded. the ground back. No physique underneath me now, just a pair of slippers, fleece-lined, scuffed alongside the ft. I positioned them on, feeling their general indentations. just like the issues within the cupboard and at the desk, the slippers have been mine. i discovered a chamber pot underneath the mattress. It was once chipped yet fresh. I knelt beside it, nonetheless attempting to make experience of the place i used to be. Then I stood and crossed the room, shuffling like a guy two times my age, coming ultimately to the window the place I driven again the curtains and appeared out at a moon-lit evening. Mountains minimize the horizon, jagged peaks of rock and pine. Water roared, muted via distance. Reichenbach, i assumed. I’m nonetheless in Meiringen. I pressed my face to the window, searching for the falls, seeing just a curl of mist emerging from a chasm midway among me and the far away peaks. And at the fringe of the precipice….

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