The Curse of Salamander Street (20 page)

‘Here,’ Barghast said, pointing to the shadows that lined the floor. ‘The creature came this way.’ There were distinct marks upon the wet sand that lined the floor. ‘It went deeper in.’

Lady shuddered. She looked at the cave roof and wondered what kept it from falling. The thought made it hard for her to breathe. Leaning against the wall, she held out the Glory Hand, hoping that it would somehow hold back the rock that she thought would fall on them at any moment. The vast emptiness of the cavern made her wits reel. It reminded her of the castle she had left and the reason for her journey.

Abruptly, she was taken from the cave as a vision flashed
across her eyes. The fear in her mind sped her back in time to a cold, foggy morning. The light had not yet come, the dawn still far off. It was the morning of her eighth birthday. The ghost of Lady Isabella had dragged her from the bed. She chased her playfully from the nursery in the spire of the castle. Through chilly, unlit corridors Tanville ran as fast as she could. At first she laughed – a game they had played before. Then something had changed. As they got to the stairs, Lady Isabella grabbed her by the hair, her ghostly hands twisting themselves coldly in her long locks and winding the strands tightly in her spectral fingers. Isabella then dragged her down each flight, faster and faster, Tanville’s feet not touching the treads but missing the steps as she ran breathlessly. It was as if the ghost wanted her to fall.

Tanville had looked up – the ceiling darkened and yet spinning above her head, the walls pressing in upon her as if they would collapse at any moment – and had reached out for balance as she screamed for Isabella to stop. No one came. Tanville screamed even louder and Lady Isabella twisted her faster. The castle faded and all around them was the great hill. There stood Isabella on a high crag, spinning Tanville as if she were a top. Every twist took her closer to the edge.

‘Hold out your arms and fly, Tanville,’ Isabella had sniggered. ‘Then we can play always.’

Tanville had done as she had said and just as she had reached the precipice she slipped. The dream was broken. She was balanced precariously upon the top of the stairs, her feet at the edge. She looked at Isabella, who laughed, ‘Jump!’ she said, as Tanville stared at the floor far below. Then Tanville had stepped from the banister as two arms snatched her from the air. She could never forget the smell of her father, holding her close and banishing Isabella.

The next day the priest had scourged the spectre. He had
poured holy water upon the picture and nailed iron bars across the frame. With his withered fingers he had laced it with henbane and holly leaves. For many nights the castle was sleepless as Lady Isabella gripped the bars, screaming from inside to be set free. For a year and a day the picture had been turned to face the wall so that she could not escape. Lady Tanville Chilnam never slept alone in the house again. She was glad that the picture had gone. Now, the dying wish of her father, spoken in his madness, had caused her to search for it again. ‘As I die,’ he said, ‘bring Isabella home again to rest with me.’

Now, inside the cavern, Lady Tanville held out her hand and forced her mind to think only of the flames. Barghast, knowing something was wrong, took the Glory Hand from her and held it above his head to cast the light as far as he could. He could sense that she was troubled. Her eyes looked empty, her face vague.

‘What troubles you?’ he asked as they walked towards a place where the tunnel narrowed and stalactites hung down like teeth.

‘It’s the cavern – it presses in upon me, takes my breath,’ she said.

‘We have nothing to fear,’ he said softly.

‘And what of Ergott?’ she asked. ‘Is he not to be feared? You think him a man who can change to a beast.’

‘Whatever Ergott may be is no cause for us to fear him,’ Raphah said. ‘I’m certain Barghast will make sure of that.’

They gathered pace as they walked. The passageway grew narrow and low, causing them to crouch as they stumbled on. The sound of water grew louder, and the gusting of the wind was like the eerie farting of a gigantic animal. Barghast continued to find the tracks of the creature. Every now and then it had stopped and scraped the floor as if it searched for something in the sand. He knew it to be near. The cavern dripped with water that filled the icy pools all around them.

In his senses he could feel the beast close by, watching them as they walked on. In the outer limits of the darkness he knew it waited for them. Barghast stopped, held the Glory Hand even higher and peered into the blackness.

‘Ergott!’ he cried, the words coming back to him. ‘Where are you, man?’

From far in the distance came a scream – half man, half dog. There was then the sobbing of a child and then the scream again.

‘We can’t go on,’ Lady Tanville said. ‘It’s the creature.’

‘We must find him before he finds us,’ Raphah said, knowing that the beast was nearby.

‘You must go back – take the Glory Hand,’ Barghast said.

‘What is it, Barghast?’ Tanville asked as she took the Glory Hand.

But Barghast was running off into the darkness.

‘The hell-hound – it’s here!’ Barghast shouted back as he vanished into the shadows.

T
HERE was a banging upon the door as Galphus and his men burst into Pallium’s house. They ran through the hall and into the scullery as the door to the stairs opened for them. Kate’s screams filled the upper passageway and made their steps even more urgent. In the room upstairs, Kate held on to the bedpost as the spectre pulled her towards the forest glade. Galphus led on as Pallium struggled behind, out of breath and holding his spindle neck.

‘She escapes,’ Galphus cried as he ran across the landing and unlocked Kate’s room. There was Kate, holding fast to the bed, her fingers white-knuckled, gripping the post as she slid across the floor, pulling the bed with her.

Neither Galphus nor the men could see the power that had hold of her. All they knew was that before them was a girl who levitated in the air. Pallium stumbled into the room and then stood aghast as Kate’s feet began to disappear into the solid wall.

‘Help me!’ Kate screamed as she felt the first chill of death touch the tips of her toes. ‘She has me and takes me to her world.’

Galphus could see no one but Kate, who had by now disappeared up to her knees into the glade. ‘Who has you?’ he
shouted. He ran towards her, grabbing her hands and pulling against the force that would have her vanished through the daub walls.

‘A spirit takes me, she came from the picture,’ Kate moaned as she felt the grip on her legs tighten to breaking point.

‘Get the picture,’ Galphus commanded the older Druggle, as if he knew what would stop the spectre. ‘Take it and throw it to the floor.’

The Druggle grabbed the frame and threw the picture to the floor. Kate was catapulted back into the room and fell upon Galphus.

‘She would have me dead,’ Kate said.

‘And I will have you alive,’ Galphus muttered to himself as he got to his feet and held her by the arm. He looked at her, not sure as to what he had just witnessed.

It was then that the ghost appeared to Kate.

‘I wanted to save you,’ she said as she stood by the window with her arms folded and brow vexed. ‘They’ll only kill you. Ask him what happens to all his indentures.’

‘I don’t believe you – you wanted me dead,’ Kate shouted.

‘I want no such thing,’ barked Galphus, believing Kate spoke to him and not the ghost. ‘We came to save you.’

‘She’s by the window,’ Kate said. ‘The ghost is there.’

Galphus looked at her as if she were quite mad. He nodded to the Druggle to draw his stave and then to Pallium, who silently slipped the door bolt and stood before the entrance.

‘I see nothing,’ Galphus said, his eyes searching for a trace of the spirit.

‘You could have set me free, but wanted to kill me,’ Kate said to the ghost, who smirked at her maliciously.

‘You speak to the ghost or me?’ Galphus asked, believing he was witnessing the ranting of someone quite mad and still unsure that he witnessed the workings of a spirit.

‘Both of you have the same desire,’ Kate said as she looked at the bruises upon her wrists. ‘I want to see Jacob Crane, he will take me from this place.’

‘Jacob has gone, took the money and went for his ship. As soon as it was offered to him, you became the least important thing in his conversation. Jacob has entrusted you to my care and for that I paid him well.’

‘I want to leave and will never work for you,’ Kate screamed, as the ghost chattered in her ear as to how she had warned that this would be the case.

‘Look into my eyes, Kate,’ Galphus said slowly. ‘There are ways and means … Some give in willingly. Others need to be
encouraged
.’ Galphus spoke in a matter-of-fact way as he took a pair of thin black gloves from his pocket and slid them with difficulty on to his fingers.

‘He’ll poison you,’ said the ghost. ‘Offer to give you
gaudi
um-auctus
.’

No sooner had the spirit uttered the words than Galphus brought a silver pyx from his pocket. He nodded to the Druggles, who without further instruction took hold of Kate and held her by the hands and feet. She struggled violently, kicking out in an attempt to break free.

As if it mattered, Pallium crossed the room and drew the shutters across the windows. He rubbed his hands and danced his tiny feet upon the boards nervously. With one hand he covered his face, then went and made busy by stacking the fire and checking the tinderbox.

‘As good as dead,’ said the ghost cheerfully. ‘Should have come with me, at least you would be free.’

‘Don’t think Jacob Crane will like this,’ Pallium said, backing away to the door. ‘Liked the girl, he did. If he ever found out, Mister Galphus …’

Galphus looked at Pallium as he rubbed his jaw. He slowly
unscrewed the cap of the pyx and, grabbing Kate by the chin, dribbled several drops into her mouth. ‘
Gaudium-auctus
…’ he said, smiling at her. ‘It won’t be long before you are begging me for more and will do anything to please me. Still see the ghost?’ he asked. ‘If you do, then please inform her that soon she too will work for me. I have not lived these seven lives just to take capture of the human spirit. I would like to have my very own haunting. My friend, Obadiah Demurral, often promised me that, but nothing came to pass.’

‘Demurral’s a pork-hedge, a babbler, a murderer,’ Kate screamed. Suddenly she realised who this man was who had her at his mercy. The spectre was still by the window, gazing at her and shaking her head. ‘I could have escaped – if you had given me the chance,’ she said to the ghost, as the Druggles let go their grip and allowed her slump to her knees. ‘Can’t you do something?’

‘Does she talk to us?’ Pallium asked.

The ghost thought for a moment, and then with a sudden twist of her hand sent a fire-stick spinning from the grate across the floor towards Kate.

‘Take it and fight, you have but a short time,’ the spectre said.cback as the metal rod spun at his feet and stopped suddenly by Kate’s hand.

Without hesitation, she took the rod and smashed it against Galphus’s leg. Jumping to her feet, she hit out at the two guards, beating them upon the arms as she ran to the door. Galphus fell to the floor, the sound of the ghost cackling in his ears. He looked up towards the window and for the first time in the candlelight could see the apparition.

‘There!’ he shouted, pointing to the ghost who looked at him coolly, sangfroid, realising she was visible. ‘I can see the spirit.’

Kate wasted no time. As the Druggles came to her she beat them again and again. She slipped the lock and ran to the stairs.
Pallium went after her, begging for her to return, his feeble voice chasing her footsteps.

In a minute, Kate was at the door. She took the key and locked it behind her, then threw the key to the mud. She looked in the direction of the Salamander Inn, then turned away and began to run. Far behind she could hear the door of Pallium’s house being kicked from its hinges as thecfrom the house. Kate ran faster. She followed the road back towards the river. Far away she could hear the sound of the quayside and the city. Yard after yard she ran, knowing soon she would be free.

One way led to another until she found herself having doubled back. Every way she took looked the same. There was no one to ask, no door upon which to knock, no hiding place to rest and think. Street after dreary street with no light from the morning sun. Kate ran through the mud, knowing that Galphus was not far away. Salamander Street went on and on forever.

She wanted Thomas to be there – he would know what to do, how to hide. From being the youngest of children they had gone through life together. They had fought, loved and caused bedlam. They were known from Whitby to White Moor and in their mischief were always together. Now he was gone, as dead as the ghost that tormented her, and he would never be seen again. From behind she heard the steady footsteps upon the stone and voices calling for her.

Kate ran again, ever faster. She hoped that she would see the way to the city and find Jacob Crane. From corner to corner she ran, sometimes stumbling in the mud. She thought that Galphus lied. Crane would never leave them – it was a scam. He’d promised in Whitby, and smugglers don’t break their promises … She thought over and over of how she had been wary of Crane when they had met at Boggle Mill.

She had told Thomas of every evil deed given to the man. Now, in the short time since then, her mind was changed. He had done so much, risked everything. Crane confused her. He could be dark of heart and filled with gloom and then in the blink of an eye be bright as day. He would shout and scream and yet be tender. He conformed to no pattern of man and nothing was beyond his desire. Kate fixed a picture of him in her mind: it was a hope that she would hang on to. She wanted him to be around every corner and in every dark place. His face was her only safe thought.

She turned into an alleyway that was lit by tallow sticks. The yellow light shimmered against the dirty white wall and stinking mud that covered the cobbled road that lay beneath. Kate stopped and took her breath. For some reason she found it hard to walk each step. Her feet were an encumbrance, a tiresome burden that slowed her to a snail-pace. She leant wearily against the wall, her eyes stinging and wanting to close. The spectre appeared beside her.

‘It’s the
Gaudium-auctus
, it will make you feel as if you are without blood in your veins. Then your feet will not want to move an inch. Worse than all this, it will take the bile from your gourd and dry you like a wizened apple.
Such joy
…’

Kate tried to focus her eyes on the girl. The world became comfortably numb. It was as if her feet had disappeared and her hands changed to sheep fleeces. Gone were thoughts of Crane and Thomas – all she could see was the vivid outline of the ghost as the light faded. ‘Name,’ she said dreamily, ‘I need to know your name …’

‘Isabella … Isabella Chilnam …’

‘Isabella,’ Kate said, and then she felt something upon her wrist and jerked from the floor as if to run. The chain that held her hand stopped her. It manacled Kate to the wall. She didn’t know if she dreamt what she saw. Kate was in a room, Galphus’s
room. The wall was lined with glass jars. She was in the corner and she cared not. All she could feel was the smile upon her face that stretched her lips from side to side and creased the skin into rough wrinkles. Kate breathed deeply, savouring each breath as if it were her very first. Wherever she was and whatever had happened held no importance for her. All that mattered was the glowing smile that filled her with a deep sense of joy and the vibrant light that seemed to flicker all around.

The door opened and Galphus walked in. He looked shorter than before, his head far too big for such a small frame. Kate began to laugh to herself. It started in the depths of her stomach as a tiny voice that giggled and squawked. Then it grew, twisting her gut until it shuddered her lips and broke from her mouth as if she were a tiger. She couldn’t stop. Her belly hurt. Tears trickled down her face. How could a man go through life with the head the size of a horse, she thought, as she dared to look at him through one eye.

This made him look even stranger. He leant towards her, his eyes growing to the size of the moon that glowed with their own light. His nose appeared vast and cavernous. She flinched for a moment as she stared within: it was lined with a million hairs that looked as if they were a coppice of trees. Kate felt that should he come any closer she would be swallowed by it. Then laughter came again – she cared not. It bellowed forth as she rolled on the floor, kicking her feet as if she ran in the air. She danced like a dying fly upon its back, screaming with joy as she cried and cried with laughter.

Galphus smirked as he took a jar from the shelf and examined it carefully.

‘See,’ he said as he looked at the green mould that lined the jar. ‘You are enjoying my
Gaudium-auctus
.’

Kate knew not what to say. She continued to laugh. As Galphus turned to sit at the table she thought she saw several black
slugs make their way across his face and vanish within his ear. She looked again and they were gone.

‘I won’t work for you,’ Kate said. ‘When Crane hears of what you have done, he will kill you. I know you tricked him. He will look for me.’

‘And he will never find Salamander Street. Only those I desire to see can ever find its entrance. They do not find me, I find them. Who is to say that Crane himself is not a prisoner just like you?’ Galphus paused and looked at her. He could see the
Gaudium-auctus
had turned her veins purple and reddened the tips of her fingers. From its seduction she would never be free, he thought. ‘You’re right, Kate. I tricked him. Gave him a bag of worthless copper and convinced him it was enough gold to pay off his ship. That was all he could see, charmed to believe lead was gold. Trouble with greedy men is they see gold in everything. I merely fulfilled his desires and told him what he wanted to hear.’ He began to laugh.

Kate giggled and moaned, her sides fit to burst from laughter. In her heart she knew of Crane’s discontent, which made it even funnier. She could hear Galphus, but his voice had changed. It was as if he were a fat mouse that squeaked and squeaked each word. She hollered even louder, wiping her face with the cuffs of the grey suit in which she woke.