Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds (7 page)

‘It could have been the wind.’

‘Slipped the bolts whilst we were talking, did it?’ Titus replied as he looked in to the gloom of the Aquarium and listened out for Grub as the dog quickly scented a trail. Titus thought it too much of a coincidence that the doors should be open on the very night that he was visited by Mariah Mundi.

‘What about Sacha?’ Mariah asked.

‘If I see any more I will tell you.’

‘Promise?’ Mariah insisted.

‘I’m beginning to think they were right in what they said about you,’ Titus said as if distracted. ‘You don’t take no for an answer. Very pushy, doesn’t know his place. I promise. Now be gone, Mariah, and be blessed …’

Titus pushed him through the metal turnstile and once he was on the outside, he turned a brass handle in the wall and locked the gate.

‘Tell Charity what I saw. He knows me, knows my ways. Keep safe. Remember, Mariah, beware the ship.’

When Mariah turned to say farewell, Titus Salt had vanished. It was as if he had been a part of his imagination, a make-believe friend who would come and go as he pleased. The wind blew cold from the sea and blasted salt and sand against his face. On the high bridge above his head, the gas lamps flickered. The waves crashed against the beach and the Prince Regent looked as if it were a vast ship that had struck the cliff.

In the bay, the
Irenzee
glimmered like a city of gold. All around it, the sea glowed a phosphorescent green as if it were alive. Mariah listened to the seabirds squawking above him as they circled the high towers of the hotel. He looked up the path that led from the Pleasure Palace to the hotel. An old vagrant slept on the bench under the gas lamp. He was wrapped in newspaper with a bag over his face to keep out the wind. Mariah had seen him there before. All was well, he thought as he shrugged the warning of Titus Salt’s vision from his shoulders and set off up the path. He thought of Sacha and wondered where she could be. Visions … He thought about them over and over, and whether Titus Salt could see the future or know where Sacha could be.

The sea wind blew against his back as old, dry leaves rustled down the path. He passed by the terrace of shops next to the side of the museum and looked inside the windows. On the bench underneath the gas lamp the tramp slept on, oblivious to his presence. Mariah gave him a fleeting glance as he looked at all the fine things that were on display. In the shop at the end of the terrace were tall jars of pickles, sweets of every description and strange devices that when attached to string would spin up and down. There were candy sticks and running hoops hanging from the ceiling. Mariah had never noticed the shop before. He had walked the terrace many times on his way to the museum and then on to the Pleasure Palace, but this time, for some reason everything in the shop window drew his attention. It was as if every item was magically illuminated.

There, right in front of him, was a small clockwork train that ran in and out of the window display and disappeared into the dark recesses of the store. It spurted steam that came from the tiny funnel and fascinated Mariah. The lights of the carriages reflected against the glass like a million diamonds every time it rocketed by the window. He stood and watched as all around

him the wind blew spirals of sand from the beach and the waves beat against the shore.

For some reason, Mariah turned. He didn’t know why he did just at that moment, but something caught the corner of his eye. The first thing he noticed was that the tramp had gone. The man had packed up his newspaper bed and disappeared into the night. Still, Mariah had the feeling that he wasn’t alone, that someone was watching him from nearby. He swallowed hard; he wanted to run but fought the urge with all his might. His legs twitched like a racehorse ready for off as he felt the panic rising in his chest.

Run, Mariah … The thought came again and again. His instincts told him to bolt from the place as fast as he could. From all around him it appeared that the darkness was closing in on him and the very night itself was his enemy.

To his right was a flight of stone steps that led from the terrace up to the bridge and then on to the Prince Regent Hotel. A gas lamp flickered on the corner, casting a black shadow under the bridge.

He began to run, knowing that if he could get to the top of the steps he would be safe. Mariah tried to count the steps to keep his mind from thinking of what could be there in the darkness. He wasn’t afraid of the dark – he told himself this again and again as his sprinting feet barely touched the sidewalk. Yet as he ran, Mariah had the feeling in his stomach that if he stopped for just one moment it would be the last thing he ever did.

He got to the steps; the gas lamp lit his face. He could see the lights of the ballroom of the Prince Regent. Mariah sighed and wanted to laugh. He shivered with relief and shook his head like a wet dog.

‘Stupid boy,’ he said to himself as he got to the top of the stone stairs.

It was then that five silver coins rolled from the shadows and down the steps. They chased each other as they bounced and clattered on the stone. Mariah froze as they jangled down and down into the dark shadows.

‘
Mine!
’ said a sharp voice that snarled as if to snatch the coins. Suddenly, Mariah felt someone grab his wet coat.

M
ARIAH
was pulled to the ground by a heavy hand and dragged down the steps away from the light and into the shadow of the bridge. His face was gripped, then smothered by a stinking leather glove. He tried to scream as he gulped helplessly for breath.

‘Don’t do anything stupid, boy. Me and you need to chat, me and you have unfinished business,’ the man said through a tight black shawl that was wrapped about his head. ‘I nearly had you and you got away, but now things will be different.’

Mariah was thrown to the ground. The man stepped back and pulled a long black handle of a swordstick that was hidden in the wall behind him. Slowly, he unwrapped the scarf from his face. In the half-light, Mariah could see that the man wore a mask.

‘It’s you,’ he said, his voice shaking.

‘And you will never have the chance to know who I really am. All I can say is that I thought you would be a far better adversary than you have been. One so clever – yet so easily captured.’

‘Tell me why I should die,’ Mariah demanded as his mind raced for a way of escape.

‘Because, Mariah Mundi, you have been chosen – you are the sacrifice.’ The man laughed as he spoke. Mariah pushed himself against the wall and waited for him to strike. He knew he had one chance. Wait until the man drew back the sword, then just as he was about to strike run as fast as he could. It was his only option, the only way he could escape. What would he lose if he failed, he thought to himself as the seconds felt like a fear-filled lifetime.

The man took off the glove from one hand, pushing it roughly into the pocket of his coat. Mariah could see a gold ring glinting upon his finger.

‘It isn’t something I like to do,’ the man said as he smoothed the blade between his finger and thumb. ‘But it has to be. Don’t hold it against me, it’s for the good of the world.’

‘What good would it be for me to die? I am but a poor boy.’

‘Poor perhaps, but important just the same. There has to be another death tonight and then five more and my task will be over.’

As the man spoke, Mariah thought there was something familiar about his voice. It was as if he had heard it before. He could not think where, but every word he spoke reminded him of Gormenberg.

‘Seven?’ Mariah asked.

‘Like the stars of that great constellation, seven. It is a complete number, perfection, total perfection.’ The man paused for a moment as if he were distracted by a faraway sound.

‘I know your voice – but who are you?’

‘I have many names, Mariah. Hiram Duegaurd, Louveteau … Now I am known as Packavi – but it will be of no use to you. For you are a cowan – a dog – a builder of walls that will be torn down – just like your life.’

‘Riddles and nonsense,’ Mariah muttered as he made ready to bolt from the man.

‘Find the meaning of my name and you will find me, but for you it is too late.’

Mariah saw him hesitate as the sound of a falling stone clanged against the metal beams of the Spa Bridge that spanned the ravine.

Packavi pulled a golden fob watch from his pocket and flicked the glass cover. The purple light of the illuminated watch face lit his mask. The man paused, turned to Mariah and raised the swordstick.

‘If you give in to the steel it will be over far quicker and with far less pain than you would expect,’ he said, his voice cold and without emotion.

‘Speed the day,’ Mariah replied as he saw movement in the gloom behind Packavi.

‘Who for?’ asked Titus Salt, who stepped from the shadows, Grub at his side. ‘Set to him, lad!’

The dog growled like a choking demon as it paced towards the man with its teeth bared.

‘Stand aside and let Mariah go,’ Salt shouted at the man as the dog stood its ground.

‘Two dogs and one master?’ Packavi asked as he stepped closer to Mariah with the sword cane raised above his head.

‘Grub will snap it from your hand before you can strike – take your chance and be gone.’

‘I’ll take the boy – dead or alive,’ Packavi shouted as he lunged for Mariah.

Mariah dived out of the way as Grub leapt like a wolf and took hold of Packavi by his hand. The dog tore at the glove, ripping it from him. It lunged again, gripping him by the coat and pulling him back and forth. Packavi, recovering from the attack, began to fight back. He dragged the dog into the darkness as if its gnawing upon his arm had no effect and he was immune to the pain. He struck the creature with a blow from

his once-gloved hand. Grub recoiled and snarled, ready to strike again. Packavi flicked the crown on the cane handle, scattering a glittering white powder in the air. All at once it exploded in a blinding flash that cracked like a whip and burnt the eyes.

The dog howled like a transforming werewolf as Titus Salt staggered to take hold of Mariah.

‘Get him, Grub!’ he shouted to the beast.

‘Titus, I can’t see – I’m blind,’ said Mariah as he stumbled in the darkness, his hands held out like those of a blind man.

‘It’ll soon return, it’s just the explosion, close your eyes and cover your face.’

‘Where is he?’ Mariah asked.

‘Gone, Mariah. We are safe,’ Titus replied as he took hold of him by the hand and led him into the light.

‘He would have killed me,’ Mariah said softly as they sat on the bench where the tramp had slept.

‘I saw him, that’s why I came. I had a vision of you in danger, more than before. I knew he would attack,’ Titus said calmly.

‘Your vision saved my life,’ Mariah said.

‘It may not always be that way, Mariah. I saw your friend, Sacha. She must be found.’

‘Where do I start?’ he asked.

‘At the Prince Regent,’ Titus said as Grub dropped the tattered remnants of the glove at his feet.

‘I wish this was all that was left of him,’ Titus said as he picked the glove from the floor.

‘But it will lead us to him,’ Mariah replied.

‘Grub cannot trace a scent as well as he could.’

‘No, but I can,’ Mariah said as he took the divining spectacles from his pocket. ‘These will find him.’

Mariah held the glove to the spectacles and tuned in the device. He looked under the bridge. Even in the dark shadows,

Mariah could see the fading red footsteps of Packavi. It was as if they had just been made.

‘This way,’ Mariah said as he gave chase.

‘It’s not safe, Mariah – he could be waiting for you.’

‘Grub will tell us if he is nearby,’ Mariah replied as he strode on, following the footprints upon the path.

Soon they had left the shadow of the bridge and had followed the narrow winding pathway that clung to the cliff and led below the Prince Regent. In the bay, the
Irenzee
glowed at its mooring. A single searchlight flitted across the water as if it hunted for the crest of each breaking wave. Mariah followed the glowing footprints down the path and through the ornate gardens that hung to the side of the cliff. Grub sniffed at his feet and barked for Titus to keep pace.

It was as they approached a large willow tree growing out of the rock that the footprints stopped. Mariah tuned the diving spectacles more intensely and looked over the edge of the path to the garden below. There was nothing. It was as if Packavi had leapt from the pathway into thin air.

The vapour from the footprints began to fade. Grub sniffed at the roots of the tree.

‘Nothing here, lad,’ Titus said in a whisper that sounded like a groan. ‘Must have jumped from the cliff and into the sea.’

‘I should see something, some trace of him – but the footprints stop right here and there is nothing more.’

‘Let me see you back to the Prince Regent – I can’t let you alone tonight, not with him still about.’

From the far side of the bay, the church clock beat four heavy bells to mark out the hour. Mariah searched the pathway for a sign as to where Packavi could have gone.

‘There must be something here,’ he said as he yawned and tried to keep his eyes from closing. ‘He can’t just disappear.’

Grub began to growl. He shuddered and shook the fur on

the back of his neck. It stood on end as if he had been spooked and could see someone invisible to the human eye. Mariah looked up into the branches.

There was a crash, and a crack of steel upon the ground. Packavi dropped to the ground and then sprang on fiery heels above their heads. He landed several feet away and drew his swordstick.

‘Think you could gain the better of me, Mariah Mundi?’ he boasted as he slashed the blade back and forth. ‘There will be a time when I shall come back for you and you will not escape. You will never know the time or place, but sometime in your future, somewhere near I will be waiting.’

Packavi appeared to twist where he stood and spun on one leg as his coat swirled about him. Mariah took off the divining spectacles and stared. In an instant, Packavi leapt backwards from the path and somersaulted through the air before disappearing over the cliff. He was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

Mariah placed the spectacles on his face one more time. A faint trace of red vapour hung like a birthday ribbon in the air. Packavi had vanished into the night.

‘Spring-Heeled Jack,’ Titus said quietly. ‘I’ve heard of him before. Can jump higher than a house and no man can catch him. Never thought he’d be here, never thought I’d see him with my own eyes.’

‘He’s a murderer,’ Mariah said angrily as he thought of his own fate. ‘And one who wants me dead.’

‘Best be off, lad. Not safe to be here in the dark. Never heard of Spring-Heeled Jack being out in daylight – best stick to the day and leave him the darkness.’

‘I have to find Sacha and find her before the morning.’

‘You’d be better telling Charity and seeing what he thinks.’

‘But –’ he protested.

‘Where would you start to look? Best if you go back to the Prince Regent and start there. I saw her in a black place – dark and cold – that’s all I can tell you.’

They walked up the steep pathway to the door of the Prince Regent. Grub followed on behind. Titus waited until Mariah had gone in through the glass door. He waved as he went inside, the images of his vision burning in his mind.

Mariah walked by the reception desk. Mrs Mukluk was sleeping, her head cradled uncomfortably in her hands. Behind her, the service lights of several rooms flickered urgently for her slumbering attention. She dozed on, occasionally snorting like a large sea lion.

‘What kept you?’ asked a voice from behind him.

‘Sacha?’ Mariah said as he turned to his friend. ‘But I thought –’

‘You ran off,’ she said indignantly. ‘I couldn’t find you. So concerned to do the business of the Bureau of Antiquities that you forgot all about me.’

‘I came looking for you – met Titus Salt – he had a vision – said you were alone-a prisoner.’

‘Drunk, the feckwit’s always drunk. I’m no more a prisoner than you,’ she said scornfully.

Mariah looked at her. He knew there was something wrong: it was the way she spoke, her voice was not the same. It was as if she was keeping something from him. Mariah knew her every movement: the raised eyebrow she would give in discontent – the smirk of a hidden joke – the stare at the insanity of a guest. These were the secret things they would share. Never a word would need to be spoken. Mariah could tell what was in her mind by her look.

‘Titus said you were in trouble.’

‘Trouble? How can I be in trouble here? I’ve been watching the guests leaving.’

Mariah glanced at her long boots; they were edged in beach sand with a white salt stain about the ankle. Now he knew she was hiding something from him.

‘Been far?’ he asked, hoping not to show his reason for asking.

‘I was here all the time – why are you so worried?’

‘He tried to kill me again. The man in the mask. I
did
see him in the hotel, I know that now, he was here. Titus saved me from him.’

‘How could he be here?’ she asked quickly.

‘He knows how to get into the hotel – I know he does,’ Mariah snapped at her.

‘Then you better find him. I’ve had enough of today. You seem to have forgot that he attacked me as well. All you seem to care for is yourself and your stupid Bureau – don’t think things happen to other people, do you, Mariah?’

‘Why do you think I have been looking for you?’ he asked as she screamed at him.

‘You can’t look for someone who isn’t lost – I have been here all the time, I never left. It was you who went off, you who got attacked again. Would be better if you’d just stayed here.’

‘We’d been asked to look out for Hoetzendorf,’ Mariah argued.

‘You’d been asked, not me. I just get dragged along, it’s always the same.’ Sacha stamped her feet as Mrs Mukluk raised a sleepy eyebrow and stared out from the reception desk.

‘They were all murdered, exploded before our eyes,’ Mariah protested.

‘I saw it all, Mariah – where do you think I was?’

‘Lost – Titus said you were in a dark place.’ Mariah replied.

‘He was wrong – very,
very
wrong,’ Sacha said as she turned to walk away. ‘It’s late and I need to sleep. You can play your games and run about for the Bureau but I am going to bed.’

‘So you say you’ve been here all night?’ Mariah asked as she walked off and Mrs Mukluk chuntered in her sleep.

‘Say? Say? Are you asking me if I’m lying? Just spit it out.

Why should I lie about being elsewhere? What have I got to hide from you?’ Sacha slammed her fist against the wall in anger. She was red-faced and ready to fight.

‘There is sand on your boots. You said you’d been here all night – but you have a salt stain and sand on your boots and don’t tell me that the hotel has sprung a leak.’

‘It’s from before,’ she said flustered. ‘Just forgot to get it off.’

‘Looks like you’ve been in the sea … or in the cellar,’ Mariah replied, knowing she would explode in rage.

To his surprise, all Sacha did was take a deep breath and smile. She twizzled the tips of her hair with her fingers as she looked at him and nodded. Inside she wanted to scream, she was furious, but she tapped her finger ten times upon her folded arm and then ten more for good measure. They stood looking at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence.