The Curse of Salamander Street (29 page)

In the vision from the crystal, they saw Raphah begin to run towards the house. The crystal followed his every step, watching him as he ran. It chased him like an eagle’s eye following a mouse through the cornfield. On and on he raced. He panted his breaths as he looked to each building to spy out the sound that in his heart he knew to be Kate.

From outside they all could hear Pallium shouting. He hollered like a Judas, calling Raphah by name, in words that betrayed them more than a kiss. It was then that the crystal eye turned to reveal the thoughts of the beast, shining through its eyes and seeing what it saw.

There in the street far behind Raphah was an older man.
With every step he aged a day, as if the centuries chased him from afar. What was once vital and alive was now crumbling and aged. Barghast was transforming as the dirt of the street sullied his boots and the air he breathed speeded his death.

He fell behind, slowing to a walking pace, unable to keep up with the lad ahead. The beast made ready, tracking him from the shadows. It waited as he took several faltering steps and then stopped for breath.

In the light of the tallow lamps they saw the man smile and wave for the other to go on and find Kate. Barghast sat upon an empty barrel, his hair turning bright white and falling to the floor strand by strand. As he had walked Salamander Street, the curse upon him was broken. He bent slowly and picked a handful of dirt from the ground and held it in his hand. Barghast stared at the rooftops that hemmed in this tiny world. He was delighted that he had taken such feeble steps along Salamander Street. Even as the frailty of age took hold of his bones and tepid blood coursed in his veins, he gave thanks.

Then, giving no warning as it lurched from the blackness, the dog leapt for him. The hell-hound took Barghast by the throat. There was a spinning of flesh and in the vision upon the ceiling Thomas thought that he could see two beasts fighting. He could hear their cries as they battled to death, tearing at each other. For the briefest of moments he thought he saw a lion’s head and then, from just outside the house, came the sound of a single shot.

The aura upon the ceiling faded as a shadowed figure stepped into the room. Even Galphus himself gasped in its presence.

‘Just in time,’ he said with a hint of nervousness as he tussled a lock of hair in his fingers. ‘I am so glad that you could make it, Parson Demurral.’

I
N a dazzling moment, as if the sun had exploded, the street echoed with the shot from the pistol. Lady Tanville stood perfectly still, her eye still gazing along the line of the barrel. The dog lay dead, blood seeping from its ears and from the small bullet hole through what had been its eye. In death it was silent, and before her eyes the corpse began to change to that of Ergott.

Raphah turned as he ran, taking a final glimpse of Barghast as he lay in the mud. He rushed up the flight of stone steps and as he passed Pallium he stared at him eye to eye. It was as if a friend was greeting him. Pallium held open his arms and welcomed him to the house, ushering him onwards towards Kate’s cries. It was then, as Raphah took his first racing steps into the long hallway, that he felt an intense sense of foreboding. A dart of anguish blasted through his spirit, telling him to turn away. As he cast a look back, he saw the large varnished door closing behind him and Pallium sniggering in the lamplight.

Ahead, Kate’s screams and the whirring of the electrometer billowed from the room. Without hesitation or concern for himself, he dashed in. A thin hand grabbed him by the throat
and threw him with the strength of a hundred men towards the fireplace.

‘Raphah,’ the voice said.

‘Demurral?’ he replied.

Raphah looked about the room. Thomas and Crane sat against the wall, and Kate was strapped into the chair by the fire. Galphus nodded and the Druggles stepped from the shadows as Thomas jumped to his feet to welcome his friend.

‘Take him,’ Galphus said, as if he were calling a dog.

Raphah was snatched from the floor and dragged to his feet as Demurral began to laugh.

‘How things change. I knew that Riathamus would not have you dead so quickly. It was easy to bring you all here. I had Ergott follow Beadle from the day he left Whitby. Does anyone ever notice a dog? Beadle did well for me,’ Demurral said. Then he pulled the bag from Raphah and looked inside at the Chalice.

‘Beadle?’ Raphah asked. ‘Did well for you?’

‘Not that he knew it, but I knew he would find Thomas and Kate. I wasn’t sure if the magic would work on Crane and that my suggestions to bring them to Salamander Street would be heard. Obviously all was well. New friends always impress Beadle. He would have searched them out no matter what. Meeting you was a gratuity, a bonus. All I had to do was follow on behind. Ergott kept me informed. As for Beadle, when I have done with you I will make sure whatever ounce of life he has left will become a misery.’

‘So it
was
you. And we walked into your trap,’ Raphah said.

‘It was me on the road
and
it was me in the cave. Bragg knew too much and had to die. He found out that Ergott had devoured Mister Shrume and wanted him for his own. Promised him the Grail – which I believe is carried in your bag. The others were just food for dear Ergott. His appetites are insatiable …’

‘But it’s over – Raphah told us …’ Thomas said.

‘You were lied to. It is never
over
, Thomas. It is not just I who seek the desires of our hearts – there are many people who would like to see heaven overthrown. It is time for a new nation and an old order to take power. A republic of the damned. Goodness and mercy are things of the past. Our desires are all that matter. Think of it, Thomas, think of you and Kate as the key to a better future for the whole world.’

‘Don’t think you’ll be killing them, Demurral,’ Crane shouted.

‘Jacob Crane, how peculiar. Is that a chain I see around your neck? I thought you were a man of action, one who would never be caught, and here you are trussed like a Christmas turkey.’

‘A matter of coincidence,’ Crane replied. ‘But should I ever be free from these chains I shall cut the gizzard from your throat and serve it for breakfast.’

‘And hell shall freeze over,’ Demurral replied as he looked at Kate. ‘Do we have the
Magenta
?’ he asked.

‘Still in the dock,’ Galphus replied. ‘Taken without a fuss.’

‘Ready to sail?’ Demurral asked. ‘So you believed the priest and the scoundrels we had paid to take your ship, Jacob? Taken in by a fallen cleric, how quaint.’

Galphus paused and looked around him. Kate stared at him through eyes that bulged with the pain of the electrodes.

‘I … only have the Druggles and they have never sailed such a ship,’ Galphus said.

‘Why do you only have Druggles? Is there not a man who can sail amongst them?’ Demurral asked.

‘The people think the
Magenta
to be carrying the plague,’ Galphus replied. ‘But,’ he said quickly, ‘it is prepared to sail and everything is ready at Dog Island.’

Crane cast a look to Thomas and gave him a sly wink and half a smile. ‘The ship, wait until we are on the ship,’ he said in a whisper.

Demurral turned, his stare telling them to be silent. ‘Did you think you had won? Escaped? Free to live your life as you desired?’ he shouted. ‘I could not rest in the grave until I have seen this day.’

‘What will you do to us?’ Thomas asked.

‘What I should have done days ago, had an angel not interfered with things. Meddling wingless wonder, fit for hell. Take the manacles from them and bind them, Galphus. Bind them tightly for we take them all to Dog Island. Then our work will be complete. Pallium,’ Demurral shouted. ‘This is not the place to take Kate’s life, that shall be kept for Dog Island. Go and find Mister Ergott, he should have made a feast of Raphah’s companions.’

They heard the door open and Pallium step into the street. This was followed quickly by a scream and the clattering of the handle. Pallium rushed back along the hallway and into the room.

‘The man is dead,’ he said, shuddering at the sight he had witnessed. ‘Shot in the eye … and …’

He did not say another word. Tanville Chilnam pushed Pallium into the study, holding the pistol to his back. She looked about the room. There was Galphus dressed in his finery. A girl was strapped in a chair with a goose wing-hat upon her head. A man was chained to the door and a lad skulked nervously by his side.

‘I’ve come for Isabella,’ she said as she pointed the gun at Galphus’s head. ‘The picture was stolen from my family and I seek its return.’

Demurral looked at her and laughed. ‘My dear girl, if that is what you are,’ he said through his teeth, ‘the picture is all a part of what I seek to do. Once I am finished I will gladly give it to you.’

‘But he’ll kill them first,’ Raphah said.

‘The picture
and
your guests,’ she demanded, knowing in an instant that they had to be set free.

‘A request too far,’ Demurral replied. ‘I would suggest that you do the honourable thing and shoot me as you shot Mister Ergott – for I will not let them go.’

Tanville Chilnam clicked the hammer of the pistol and took aim. All that Demurral could do was smile. Galphus gulped nervously as the moments seemed to last for a lifetime.

Thomas noticed the woman swallow, and the scarf around her neck quivered slightly as her eye flickered from Demurral to the picture of Isabella. The ghost hung to the bars, staring out like a lost child.

‘Kill him, Tanville!’ she screamed from within the confines of her prison.

‘No!’ shouted Crane. ‘Leave that to my men – they wait this night for
The Prospect of Whitby
– let them kill him. Remember, tell Beadle –
The Prospect of Whitby
.’

For a brief instant she looked at him. Lady Tanville licked her lips and then, as her hand slightly trembled she pulled the trigger. Again the gun exploded. The shot blasted from the pistol and instantly hit Demurral in the chest, sending flecks of blood and linen cloth across the room. He reeled backwards, clutching the wound. Then with his right hand he thrust his fingers into the skin, burrowing them deeper.

Demurral gave a sudden and sharp cough as if he cleared his throat of a fishbone. He shook his head, pulled his fingers from the wound and dropped the lead shot to the floor.

‘I am beyond dying,’ he said like a man tired of the day. ‘It will heal. I am a curser of God and cannot be destroyed until he himself comes for me.’ As Demurral spoke, the blood stopped in its flow.

‘Take her,’ Galphus shouted to the Druggles, who appeared from the shadows and took hold of Tanville. ‘See she causes no
more trouble. This has to be done tonight. In the morning, I will test her to see if she has a soul.’

‘And so you shall,’ Demurral said, looking closely at Kate. ‘To the ship and then to Dog Island. Nothing shall end this day until I command it.’

Like a forlorn caravan of wastrels, Raphah, his companions and Isabella’s portrait were bound and marched from the house and into the street. An old carriage was drawn up by the door. It filled the width of Salamander Street from wall to wall, and its flaking black-lacquered doors could barely open to allow them inside. Thomas was pushed to the roof and tied like an old hen to the luggage rail. When all were gathered in, the carriage took flight.

Four horses charged on, rolling the coach from side to side as it scraped against the houses. They were garbed in funeral black and each was plumed about the head with the blackened tail of a cockatrice. The coachman whipped the horses to go faster. Ahead was a solid wall.

Thomas covered his face as they drew closer, the sound of the tumbling wheels clattering against the cobbles. ‘Stop!’ he screamed to the coachman, who turned to him and grinned as the coach sped towards the wall. ‘No …’ Thomas screamed again as the first horse vanished through the solid stones as if it were a ghost.

The coachman turned and slapped him with the back of his hand. ‘Keep silent,’ he squealed in the voice of a mouse, from a man the size of a mountain.

There was a long silence. The noise of the street had gone, the glow of the lamps vanished. Suddenly there was a whooshing of the breeze as the night sky blazed above. People stopped and stared as the coach was driven madly towards the dock. Soon it turned towards the Thames. Salamander Street was left far behind. Thomas could smell the stink of the sewer that ran
through the city. Far in the distance, he could see the masts of several ships rising from the water. There was the
Magenta
, tall and bare, still tied to the quayside.

The horses slowed as they shivered and jumped along the road. Thomas remembered how he had once seen a funeral coach take a man from the town and climb the cliff path to the high church above the harbour. It had slithered through the streets, drawn by horses just as these, dark and bringers of death. Twice it had circled the church, then thrice and then for a fourth time. The coffin had been lead-braced and made of holly. ‘Four times round the church,’ Thomas said out loud, ‘four times to keep the man dead …’

‘Bed?’ asked the coachman. ‘There will be no bed.’ He laughed again, his teeth black like rotted potatoes.

At that the coach stopped and the doors opened. On the
Magenta
, a crew of grey Druggles waited impatiently for their master. Galphus led the procession from the quayside and onto the ship. A crowd of sultry women gathered and looked on.

‘Prisoners of the King,’ shouted Demurral as he strode behind, kicking out at Thomas. ‘Stop your staring and be about your business. We can’t be late,’ he shouted to Galphus who merried himself with his cane. ‘She will not wait for us, not tonight.’

The many eyes gave no heed to what he said. They stared and stared as Thomas and the others were quickly taken below deck and the ship made ready. Three small boats, each with oars and a small mast, pulled the ship into the tide. It creaked and groaned as the fingers of the current took hold and pulled it against the breeze.

Crane felt the ship move beneath his feet and smiled. He looked around his cabin. All seemed familiar and yet different. The door was locked. Galphus sat in Crane’s chair and glared, his eyes blood-red. Propped against the wall by his desk was
the picture of Isabella. The spirit was nowhere to be seen. All that was present was her outline against the canvas. On the deck above, they could hear Demurral shouting to the Druggles as they attempted to steer the ship to Dog Island.

Salamander Street was deathly still. Lady Tanville Chilnam looked out of the upper-floor window of Galphus’s house. The room was bare, but for a leather-backed chair placed close to the fire. A single candle burnt on the mantel. Outside the door a Druggle waited. Lady Tanville held the empty pistol in her hand. No one had thought to take it from her when they had pushed her from the room and bundled her up the stairs. She had heard the carriage take flight as the horses raced from the street. Now she was alone, she thought of what she could do.

In the light of a nearby house, Tanville Chilnam could see Ergott’s body lying in the mud. She felt no concern for what she had done. Her mind was numb, she was unconcerned with his death. Tanville mused on this again and again, unable to feel any compassion.

All she could feel were the pangs of betrayal and the irritation of being locked in the room. For several seconds she searched the street to see where Barghast had fallen. Tanville thought him to be dying, the curse on his life broken by the dust on which he walked. In the last moments of his life she had watched him age. Wrinkle crept upon wrinkle as he had withered before her eyes.