Hercufleas (4 page)

Quietly he slid out of bed. Tiptoeing past his parents, he groped for the door. It closed behind him with a
click
, and Hercufleas was out in the corridor.

The house-hat was different in the dark. Like it belonged not to the fleamily any more, but to someone else, someone living among the shadows in stillness and hush, who glared from the dark every time Hercufleas made a floorboard creak. His skin prickled and his heart skittered and his legs jittered with each jump. Inside his egg it had been dark, but not dark like this. Not endless and swallowing and chill.

He stumbled up the stairs, almost shrieking when he came face to face again with the Czar, glaring from his stamp above the banister. He groped around the living room, stubbing his toe on an armchair.

‘Ow ow ow!' He hopped around the room in agony, holding his foot. He tripped on an armchair, slid across a rug and crash!
Whoompf!
He was in the fireplace.

Ash and soot flew up in a choking blizzard. Coughing and spluttering, Hercufleas leaped from the hearth, reached for the heavy velvet curtains, pulled up the window, unlatched the shutters and gulped a deep breath of clean air.

Outside, there was a monster.

Its head was the size of the whole house-hat, with pale skin speckled like an eggshell, and odd-coloured eyes – one green, one brown. Its hair was a tangled mess. A hideously big mouth twisted into a scowl, with rows of square white teeth, each as big as Hercufleas. The glass buzzed in the window frame, and there was a rumble like thunder as the monster's mouth started to move.

‘Three florins,' it said. ‘That's all I've got.'

Hercufleas jumped so high he banged his head on the ceiling. He landed back on the floor, tiny heart thrumming with terror, yelling, ‘Giant! Giant! There's a huge monster outside!' He latched the shutters, wrenched down the window, shut the curtains and hid behind an armchair.

TAP TAP TAP
, went something on the window. The whole house-hat wobbled and shook and Hercufleas trembled.

The giant wanted to come in.

‘Hercufleas?' Min called from the downstairs corridor. ‘Where have you got to? What's all this shouting?'

TAP TAP TAP
, went the monster on the window again. This time Hercufleas stood up. The giant had already seen him, but there was still hope for his fleamily. He was done for, but they might still get away.

‘Run!' Hercufleas yelled downstairs. ‘Everybody, run. I'll be the decoy!'

Without waiting for a reply, he bounded to the curtains and threw them open once more. On the other side of the window, an enormous finger tapped on the glass with a dirty nail. Hercufleas pulled up the window, trying to remember the courage he'd felt after drinking the lion's blood. He leaped from the house-hat, landed on the fingertip and bit it as hard as he could.

There was a deafening yelp as the giant's blood filled his mouth. It was bitter and fiery and it made Hercufleas feel hollow inside. The giant's other hand flicked him into the air, knocking the breath from his lungs. He fell, bouncing on the floor and skidding to a stop.

He lay dazed, hearing shouts and curses all around. He hoped his fleamily had escaped. He hoped he'd saved them.

Looking up, the enormous pink hand was coming towards him. He closed his eyes and his life flashed before him, which took about a nanosecond. He waited for the enormous thumb to squish him flat…

Here lies Hercufleas
, he thought.
He liked hugs from his fleamily and going boingy-boing. But he never found out what happened on Tuesdays…

The giant didn't squash him. It plucked him up, dangling him in the air.

‘Can I have this, but in a bigger size?' it said.

H
ercufleas was at the kitchen table, sipping koala blood to calm him down. Min gave him another hug and a nip on the cheek. Pin was outside, smoothing things over with the monsters. Apparently there was more than one of them, and they weren't monsters at all, but creatures called
humans.

‘We were going to tell you about humans after breakfast,' Min said. ‘They can be a little… overwhelming… when you first see them, can't they?'

Hercufleas nodded.

‘But the truth is, dear, they're not scary at all,' Min continued. ‘All fleas – even big, talking fleas like us – are parasites. We can't live unless we have a host to live upon. Who do you think wears our house-hat?'

Hercufleas looked down at his feet. It felt strange to think that the whole house was teetering on top of an enormous human head.

‘We're not like normal fleas,' said Min. ‘We're bigger. That means that we can't hide on our host, like other fleas. In fact, our host
invited
us to live in this hat.'

Hercufleas didn't understand. ‘Why would he do that? Doesn't
The Plea of the Flea
say that humans call us pests and want to squish us?'

Min smiled. ‘Our host is nice man called Mr Stickler, and he would never do that. We
work
for him, Hercufleas.'

‘We do?'

She nodded. ‘We're his employees. Or, in actual fact, his employ
fleas.
How else do you think we can afford blood from exotic animals all over the world, and to sleep on mouse-hair mattresses and light our rooms with candles? All these things cost money, and we have to work very hard to earn it. You too, eventually.'

Hercufleas slumped in his chair. What about the destiny he'd always known was waiting for him? What about adventures?

Something occurred to him. ‘We won't
lose
our jobs, will we? Because of me biting our host, I mean? He won't think we're pests and make the fleamily leave his head?'

Min tried to smile, but she couldn't hide the worry in her voice. ‘I hope not,' she said. ‘It was just an accident, Hercufleas. A misunderstanding. But, you see…' She sighed. ‘You didn't bite our host, you bit another human. A girl. One of Mr Stickler's
customers.
And this customer is very important to him. She has money, and she was about to pay him when you… well, when you made your mistake. Do you see now?'

Hercufleas nodded. Because of him, the girl might not feel like paying Mr Stickler, which meant he would lose business – and then the fleamily really
would
be pests to him.

‘Will you come outside with me now and apologise?' Min asked.

Hercufleas was very nervous about seeing humans again. They were so big – so monstrously ugly. But Min needed him to say sorry, so he nodded. She leaned forward and nipped him on the cheek.

‘What a sweet little hatchling you are. Come follow me, then. Don't be scared.'

Min led him out through the front door. They stood on the brim of the house-hat together. Despite all the koala blood, Hercufleas's legs were quivering. He suddenly realised he knew almost nothing about their host. He didn't even know what the customer wanted to buy.

So he asked Min, and just before they jumped onto Mr Stickler's shop counter, she whispered, ‘He sells Happily Ever Afters.'

‘Y
ou bring the quest, we'll do the rest' – that was the motto at Happily Ever Afters. Mr Stickler had it embroidered in gold thread across his blazer pocket. Standing nervously on the counter with Min and Pin, Hercufleas gazed up at him. Stickler wore a crisp suit the colour of banknotes. His wet eyes blinked, magnified behind scopical glasses. A thin black moustache squiggled across his lip like a signature on a contract. He had no visible neck; years of wearing the heavy house-hat had pushed it down into his shoulders.

So this is our host, thought Hercufleas, turning around. And this is his shop.

The walls of Happily Ever Afters were covered with posters advertising Avalonian heroes: paladins with swords, cossacks with bows, uhlans with long feathered lances. There were special offers like: ‘Half price for quests involving beautiful princesses!' and ‘Now with 33% more courage!'

‘Mr Stickler rents heroes out to people who need a Happily Ever After,' Min explained in a whisper.

One day I'll be on that wall too, Hercufleas decided, imagining a poster with ‘Whatever size his enemies, the winner's always Hercufleas!' written across it in bold.

‘Well?' said Mr Stickler, glaring at Hercufleas. ‘What do you say?'

‘Oh!' Hercufleas was jolted from his daydream. He turned to the girl on the other side of the counter: the customer, who stood sucking her bleeding finger. ‘Sorry for biting you.'

‘Please forgive my little Hercufleas,' Min grovelled to the girl. ‘He only hatched yesterday.'

‘He's extremely adventurous,' Pin explained. ‘We hope he'll grow out of it. The others did.'

‘We've only ourselves to blame…' Min sighed. ‘While in their eggs, they hear about nothing but heroes and quests and Happily Ever Afters, and then when they hatch—'

‘He could have cost me a customer,' Stickler interrupted. ‘Happily Ever Afters is a business. Our reputation is everything. We want to be known for helping people, not biting them.'

Hercufleas felt the drop of blood in his belly go hot with shame. ‘But I thought—'

‘I don't care what you thought,' Stickler snapped. ‘I care what you did. You sullied our good name. What's to stop Miss Greta from going to another, rival shop to hire a hero?'

The customer took her finger from her mouth. ‘He was trying to protect his family,' she said with a shrug. ‘How can I be mad at someone who does that?'

‘Miss Greta,' Stickler said, voice now wheedling, ‘please accept again my sincere apologies for my employflea's temporary lapse in—'

‘All right, all right, he's sorry, you're sorry, we're all sorry.' The girl called Greta rolled her eyes. ‘Now how about you tell me what you can offer me? Then I can sign my contract, give you my gold, get my hero and go.'

Stickler blinked. ‘As you wish.' He spread his hands wide. ‘So, Miss Greta of Tumber, you want a hero. You've come to the right place. Avalon is famous for them. More live on this island than in the rest of the world put together. Here at Happily Ever Afters, we offer our customers only the finest heroes, the most legendary.'

‘Well, where are they?' said Greta, looking around. ‘I need one quick.'

Hercufleas waved his arm in the air. ‘Ooh! Pick me!'

‘Hush, little one!' Min clapped a hand over his mouth.

‘Heroes are Avalon's most valuable resource,' Stickler explained. ‘Gold must be kept safe in a vault, yes? Well, our heroes are no different. Here in Avalon they sleep in the caverns below our island until they are needed.'

Greta looked down at the floorboards. ‘They're down there?'

‘Deep down.'

‘Asleep?'

‘Indeed. Avalon's alchemists use potions to put them in an ageless slumber, while here at Happily Ever Afters, we painstakingly match each hero to the quest that best fits their capabilities. Then they are woken up to save the day, and later they are sent to sleep again. This method saves time, money and energy. It is an extremely efficient way to go on adventures.'

‘How do we find the right hero for me, if they're all asleep?'

‘Well, now…' Stickler flicked down a lens of his scopical glasses and peered closely at Greta. ‘For that, we must look through the catalogues.'

L
eaning below the counter, Mr Stickler cranked a hidden lever. Beneath Hercufleas, machinery began to rumble and whirr. A maze of dark cracks appeared across the countertop. With a clanking sound, high walls rose up on either side of him. Min held his hand tight and whispered, ‘Don't worry, little one. Stay still and watch.'

With a hiss and shudder, the pistons and cogs below the counter groaned to a stop. Hercufleas looked around. The counter had transformed into a maze of corridors, with tall shelves either side stacked with books the size of stamps.

‘These are my catalogues,' Stickler explained. ‘A complete record of all the heroes I currently have available. Each book holds the details of one hero: their strengths, their weaknesses, their price…'

Greta gawped. ‘That's the smallest library I've ever seen. Probably the biggest too. There must be thousands of books—'

‘Seven thousand, nine hundred and fifty six,' said Min.

Greta looked at Stickler in awe. ‘That's a lot of heroes.'

Stickler smirked. ‘We have one for every conceivable purpose. Now tell me: what sort of hero do you need?'

She answered, ‘A giant-slayer.'

Stickler nodded, glasses slipping down his shiny nose. ‘Of course, of course, we have a fine selection, the finest in Avalon.' He peered down at Min, Pin and Hercufleas. ‘You heard the customer. Find Miss Greta a giant-slayer.'

‘At once, Mr Stickler!' Min and Pin grinned, relieved that they were still his employfleas.