A Tailor's Son (Valadfar) (14 page)

Darting inside the shop, Harold wrote out a small card which
stated ‘
closed due to sickness in the family’
. Harold left it in the shop window
being careful not to damage the hard work the spider had put into
making its web. The card was an explanation for the sudden
disappearance. Part of him still hoped that things would go back to
normal one day and that they could keep on the good side of his clients.
Janet’s boy would not be there for a few days and Harold hoped that
the little scribbled message marked by his own hand would be enough
to give him something to return to when all this was over. That done
and the store locked up, Harold left it in charge of his new eight-legged
friend and made for Muriel’s house, hoping that she would be home.

The journey was sparingly uneventful and gave Harold time
to rest his exhausted mind. He spent most of the journey dreaming
about the little charcoal coloured rat he had seen giving a rat catcher
the slip as it darted under one of the many bridges that crossed the
canals on the Trade Road. The daydream over and Harold stood on
Muriel’s doorstep with a lump in his throat. Harold prayed that she
would welcome him to stay. If she did not then he had no idea where
he would go. The image of the summer house flashed across his mind.
Port Lust was not all that far, Harold could escape there and start a new
life by the sea.

It was not the first time Harold had thought of fleeing the city
since all this started. He was trying to be a hero and it really didn’t suit
him, he should just go, he thought to himself, as he stood with his hand
hovering above the knocker. Harold made up his mind, that was where
he would go. If he could not even bring himself to knock on Muriel’s
door how could he save the city. Port Lust it was to be. He turned his
back to make his way to the Neeskmouth Ridge and the road out across
the plains when the door opened behind him. Muriel stood in its
opening with her bright red hair caught in the wind that rattled down
the alleyway. She wore the same dress as before. It was definitely a
summer dress and not designed for the cold of Thresh; it was low-cut
around her bosom and a thin belt was pulled tight around her slim
waist. It was plain, a dull, off -white and showed signs of age. The
woollen outline of the dress had begun to bubble around the edges and
the once tightly knit pattern looked weathered and loose. The small
lace leaves at the cuffs had stretched and looked more like misshaped
palm trees.

Harold felt his nerves tingle and run rampant within his
stomach as his eyes traced her outline. These observations all happened
in a moment and Harold prayed she had not noticed his scrutiny. His
eyes ran back over her curves and towards her eyes, but not before
Harold noticed her skin had puckered into goose bumps in the seconds
that had past. She smiled and greeted him.

“Harold. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you knocking. You’re lucky I happened
to be passing the door and saw your shadow in the glass.”
She shot him a
warming smile and Harold was glad that she seemed happy to see him
again.

“I didn’t knock.”
Harold replied, cursing himself as soon as the
words left his lips. The moment felt too awkward and Harold was not
thinking straight. He was confused and focused on why it felt awkward.
The last time Harold had felt like this was for Massey Jane when he was
still in school shorts.

“Oh, good, then you’ve not been there long then.”
Muriel said with a
playful twang to her words. She smiled again and Harold noticed for
the first time she wore makeup on her lips, something most prostitutes
could not afford and if they did Harold could not think of a time they
would need to use it. It looked freshly put on and Harold briefly
wondered if she had put it on just for him. The sarcastic tone to her
voice told him that she knew Harold had stood outside for a long time.
It had been at least ten minutes or so as Harold tried to pluck up the
courage to knock at the door. Muriel giggled at the silence and his heart
fluttered, missing a beat. The noise was so young and fresh.

“Can I come in? It’s cold out here.”
Harold asked through quickly
reddening cheeks. He felt as flustered as a child.
“
Yes of course, sorry.”
Muriel replied, flashing him another one
of her sweet little smiles. She stepped aside, though not far enough to
allow him clear access to her home and Harold had to brush past her to
squeeze into the door. She was teasing him, clearly able to see Harold
was uncomfortable. Harold guessed it came from her line of work that
she could see if a man liked her. It was part of her stock and trade.
Walking in front of Muriel, Harold made his way to her lounge and
took a seat by the table. Harold should have waited, really, for her to
offer him a seat but he felt so at home there. A quick glance towards
the fireplace confirmed his first impression. The room was as cold as
ice and the fire was still bare from his last visit.
“So, you kept your word and came back then. I was not sure if I would get
to see you again. Glad I have. What’s new?”
Muriel asked, glancing at the bag
as Harold slid it under his feet.
“
Have you seen the papers?”
Harold asked taking her attention
away from his belongings for the moment. He wanted to wait for the
right time to ask if he could stay for a few nights.
“
I’ve not left the house.”
Muriel replied, and Harold knew it was
because she was too scared after what she had seen. She was a brave
woman but Harold should have known the sight of three guard officers
being ripped apart would have done more damage than it had appeared
to.
“
What about money, surely you need to work?”
Harold asked,
realising it was rude but needing to know. Muriel had been so desperate
for money the first time he had met her and God only knows what
would happen if she did not meet the street charge imposed on her by
the O’Brien’s. The confident smile fell from Muriel’s lips and her gaze
fell down to her feet.
“It’s not safe for a working girl with that thing out there
.” She said,
confirming his hunch she was as scared as he was.
“
I’ll get him, I promise
.” Harold told her, meaning it with all his
heart. Harold had started to develop feelings for Muriel in the few days
he had known her and was already willing to throw himself at William
just to make her feel safe. That combined with his overwhelming urge
not to rot to death in a prison meaning he’d have to find him anyway.
“
How do you plan to do that? You have seen what he can do. Sacellum
alive, he will lay a gentleman like you on his arse in seconds.”
Muriel’s reply came
quickly and Harold could see the concern in her eyes. It was true,
Harold was not scrawny because of his job loading barrels, but he had
never been a fighter. It left him with no answer to give. Harold had no
idea how he would stop William.
“I’ll think of something, I promise. I want him gone as much as you do.”
Harold said half just to convince himself. “
I have a favour to ask of you
though, a big one. The guard are still looking for me. My home is unsafe and I do not
have anyone I can trust but you. I know we have only just met-”
Harold did not
know how to finish the sentence but thankfully, Muriel interrupted
him. It was not her best quality, and made him fleetingly think of his
father.
“I saw the bag as you came in. I know what you want. You can stay here,
but I have only one room. You can either bunk with me upstairs or you can sleep down
here. I have some spare bedding but it’s still deathly cold down here at night.”
Muriel
said, giving little preference for either option. For a moment, Harold
saw a sparkle flash across her face again. Harold was not sure if she had
really meant for him to sleep upstairs, or if it was a joke. He knew she
would be forward if she had really wanted him to bed with her, being
shy and a working girl did not go together. However, as much as the
thought of sharing a bed with Muriel pleased him, it was not proper
and most definitely not appropriate. Harold could not afford to lose
himself in the madness that swirled around him.
“I’ll stay down here. I have some money for the rent, and you won’t have
to work until this is over. I will give you sixpence for some firewood too.”
Harold
said, trying to sound sincere but it was all for his own benefit. The
house was freezing and he could already feel his skin turning purple.
“
You don’t have to pay.”
She said and Harold knew she would
have let him stay for free. That said a lot without the need for words.
The girl was ‘unfortunate’ as the city called them. She was a working
girl and for her to allow him to stay for nothing meant she must have
seen him as a friend at the very least. Putting aside his confusing
feelings Harold was happy that her friendship would be enough for
now. For at that moment he needed a friend he could rely on.
“I know, but I want to pay my way.”
Harold replied and so it was
that he moved into Muriel’s house.
The place warmed up quickly with the fire roaring. Even with
the price of coal being so high, his sixpence had bought a lot of fuel and
Muriel had taken the initiative to use some of the money to buy some
food as well. Harold sat alone in the lounge waiting for her to prepare
it. If it was not for everything that was going on, Harold thought, he
could feel comfortable there. The smell from the kitchen wafted
through and Harold waited eagerly for the lovely mutton stew, turnips
and fresh bread still warm from the baker’s oven. Harold sat alone
listening to the clattering from the other room. It gave him plenty of
time to think.
He decided that he would have to find out what brought
William back. Harold had to know what he was before he could stop
him. After seeing Muriel risk starvation rather than working the streets
for fear of William, Harold knew now that stopping him was more
important than proving his innocence. With the strength William had
demonstrated he would take weeks if not months to catch, and in that
time, he would claim hundreds of victims if Harold didn’t do
something about him. There were only a few places Harold could think
of to look for information on what William might be. The occult was
not common reading in the city, with most references to magic being
removed in one of the many book burnings that Malcolm Benedict had
instigated. Harold personally knew nothing of it. The rumour of the
devil’s club that the upper classes could pay to join went through his
mind, they were a cult that believed they could join the demon that
threatened Valadfar and had dealings in some horrid acts hidden
behind closed doors, but Harold doubted this was anything to do with
William. It was a drinking club and gave bored, rich people something
else to waste money on. His only other lead would be the papers,
maybe they would know more. Harold doubted it though, which led
him on to think of William’s family again. They might have known
something, but Harold could not face them, he just was not strong
enough. That left but one other choice that he could think of. Harold
would need to break into the guard station, find their reports on both
William’s death and the incidents since.
His heart sank at the thought of what the world had turned
him into but fate had dealt him these cards and Harold had to play the
hand out. Harold would go out and check with the Times first thing in
the morning. If, as he suspected, that didn’t expose William for what he
was then Harold would prepare for something that seemed insane;
Harold would break into the courthouse.

As Harold prepared for his first night at Muriel’s, Reverend
Paul Augustus was fighting with his own insanity. His lack of sleep over
the last few days was nothing in comparison to the weeks in which Paul
had suffered insomnia. His paranoia was growing and only added to his
madness. He had not been home since William had attacked him for he
was too scared of what would happen while he slept. The hovel of a
room was not definable against the Rakta Ishvara, whereas Paul had
turned the catacombs below Saint Anne’s into a fortress. With the last
of his dwindling strength he had scattered sprigs of the Abrus herb,
which was volatile to the vampire leech, around the stairs making the
decent down to the darkness painful for William if he came that way.
To slow his would-be attacker down even further, Paul had upturned
the table he had previously been using for his experiments and pressed
it, along with two unearthed coffins he had dragged across to the foot
of the stairs, their forever sleeping occupants still inside as silent
guards.

Paul remained in the catacombs, feeling it was the only safe
place for him. His insanity and paranoia had peaked to the point he
now feared the city would learn his secrets. It had not just been his
home that Paul had avoided. He had barely left his sanctuary since
William’s attack. He continued to carry out sermons from the church
above so as not to raise suspicion, but as soon as they were over, he
scurried back into the dark and clambered over his sleeping watchmen,
where he sat in silence waiting and watching. So afraid of leaving the
stone walled safety of the church had Paul become, that he even had to
send an altar boy tasked with going to find one of O'Brien’s associates.
The young boy found the two brothers not far from the Greenway.

They were still busy looking for Harold after he gave them the
slip at the hospital after being escorted away by the guards. When they
found out that the man named William, whom Harold had sent them
after, was a dead man, it had infuriated them and meant that in their
eyes Harold was definitely guilty. They would have killed him and
Harold should have been dead long before he made it to Muriel’s but
they did not know his exact address and for that Harold should have
been thankful. The day the altar boy found the O’Brien’s only a few
doors down from Harold’s home, he would have still been there. The
boy had rushed back to tell Paul his achievements, sure it would buy
him a coin or two but Paul had killed him off quickly, bludgeoning him
to death with a copper candlestick holder. In his insanity Paul had
decided that the young child had been too much of a risk to let live. He
had seen the catacombs and knew who Paul was after. He was as bad as
the rest, all conspiring to stop his work. Paul hadn’t bothered to
experiment on the boy’s body. Instead he had thrown the limp cooling
body into the hole beneath the sarcophagus that led down into the
labyrinth below the city, all the while continuing to rant to the silence
around him.