Julius and the Soulcatcher (8 page)

‘Through here,' said Clements. He led them into an even narrower street. Julius held the back of Mr Flynn's coat so as not to lose him.

‘Nearly there,' said Clements, as cheerful as a tour guide.

The street stopped and wasteground began. Julius, Clements and Mr Flynn stood there in a row, peering into the night. A muddy path stretched out before them through an expanse of swampy grass. After ten yards it dissolved into the fog.

‘Lead on,' said Mr Flynn.

Clements hesitated. ‘You can take my word for it, Mr Flynn. Their hideout is through there. Follow the path and you can't miss it.'

‘I want to see it for myself before I part with a farthing,' said Mr Flynn.

‘Three pounds, did we say?' said Clements.

‘Two, if I remember correctly,' said Mr Flynn.

‘Yes, of course, two. I remember now.'

The fog began to sink its damp claws into Julius's skin, making his head ache with the cold. He tried to stamp his feet quietly, waiting for Clements to come to a decision.

‘Just a sight, then, and our deal is done?' said Clements.

‘Just a sight,' said Mr Flynn.

‘Very well…'

Julius thought he heard a curse under Clements's breath. ‘This way,' said the purefinder and he walked into the fog.

‘Stick close,' said Mr Flynn to Julius.

When they had gone a few paces Julius looked back. There was nothing but fog. He held Mr Flynn's coattail firmly as they walked on. Julius lost count of his steps.

Clements stopped. ‘That's it,' he whispered.

Up ahead, the fog thinned and Julius could see a wall, slightly darker than the night. Beyond the wall the black silhouette of a house rose from the wasteland. Faint candle-lit rectangles showed the windows.

‘They come and go at all times of the night,' whispered Clements. ‘They stole a hansom cab a few days ago, and they use it to bring boxes and whatnot into the place. There's an odd fellow with them.'

‘Odd?' said Mr Flynn.

‘Short, gives everyone the collywobbles.'

‘That's Tock,' whispered Julius.

‘Thank you, Clements,' said Mr Flynn, handing over two sovereigns. ‘The Watchmakers will remember this.'

‘Goodnight, Mr Flynn, Higgins,' said Clements, and he skittered back along the path.

Julius had lost his sense of place. They could have been on a Yorkshire moor, but for the stench of the tanneries. At the stable door, he lit several Lucifers so that Mr Flynn could see to pick the lock. Finally it opened with a satisfying click and they slipped into the dark yard and made their way along the side of the stable outhouse until they came to the first window.

Julius peeped through the corner of the dusty windowpane. The interior walls of the building had been demolished, leaving only the outer walls and the roof. Birdcages and candles hung from the ceiling. The candles lit the cavernous lair as far as the second floor—above that, only hints of the roof rafters could be discerned.

Julius carefully shifted his position to see the floor. There were floorboards, with strips of plaster and brick where walls had once stood. Pale rectangles lined the walls, ghosts of pictures long gone.

To the left, in the far corner, stood a table covered with beakers, test tubes and large glass bulbs, in a complex arrangement connected by rubber
tubing. Their contents bubbled and steamed over gas burners. Another table was crammed with pots of orchids of all shapes and colours. Julius strained his eyes and peered through the dirty windowpane to get a better look.

‘What's that in the birdcages?' whispered Mr Flynn. ‘Are they rats?

‘I think so,' Julius replied. ‘And there's orchids in some of them.'

‘We've come to the right place, then,' said Mr Flynn.

Julius crept to the next window. He poked his head up and leaned to the side to see the left wall, where there was a basic kitchen and a sleeping area.

Julius cleaned a circle in the glass to get a clearer view.

A tall man in a brown overcoat lay on a bunk. Another man, also wearing a brown overcoat, sat reading a newspaper. Julius recognised them immediately as the men in the hansom cab.

Mr Flynn cleaned a circle for himself ‘That's Rapple and Baines,' he whispered ‘No doubt about it.'

Julius and Mr Flynn watched them for some minutes. There was little to see until one of the bubbling bulbs boiled over. The man reading dropped his paper and hurried to the apparatus as the hissing steam rose up to the rafters.

‘Mr Rapple, Mr Rapple, wake up, it's nearly ready,' he said.

Rapple woke with a jolt. He stared at nothing for a few seconds as if he was trying to remember where he was. Then he swung around to sit on the edge of his bunk and watched Baines, who turned down the flame on the burner and adjusted the taps on the tubes.

The rats screeched and scurried around, making the birdcages sway on their chains.

Rapple stood up. ‘They're getting excited,' he said.

A loud rapping made them both turn.

‘Well done. You've gone and woken Abigail,' said Baines.

Julius ducked down below the windowsill. He sneaked past the back door and came up at the next window.

He cleaned an eye-sized circle in the grime on the windowpane and looked through. He saw a dining table near the far wall. A stained lace tablecloth was spread over it. Two small dots of red light glowed in the dark corner behind the table.

The rapping noise sounded again.

Rapple jumped. He looked around as if he had lost something that desperately needed to be found.

Baines backed away.

‘Throw her something,' said Rapple.

‘There's nothing left.'

‘There must be.'

‘She's had everything there is,' said Baines, searching frantically under the one of the tables.

Rapple untied one of the suspended cages. ‘She can have one of these,' he said.

‘Oi! We need that,' said Baines.

The rat squealed and scrambled up the bars. The other rats joined it, in a discordant chorus of high-pitched cries. The rapping behind the table started up again.

Rapple took a leather gauntlet from his pocket and slipped it over his hand. Then he opened the cage door, thrust his hand inside and grabbed the rat by its tail. It dangled upside down, arching its back and screeching, its teeth snapping, trying to bite Rapple's arm.

‘Toss it over,' said Baines. ‘Quick, man.'

The rapping grew lower and faster.

‘Here you are, Abigail,' shouted Rapple. He threw the empty birdcage into the dark corner.

A giant, metal creature leapt out from behind the table and caught the cage with two claw-like appendages.

Julius jumped, nearly falling backwards.

The creature looked like a cross between a giant praying mantis and a spider.

Baines held one of the candles hanging nearby and took a few cautious steps towards the creature.
‘There you are, Abigail, my dear. That'll keep you quiet for a bit.'

‘Let's get to work,' said Rapple. He stepped back and knocked his shoulder against one of the cages. Immediately, orchid tendrils stretched through the bars, reaching for his face. Rapple flinched. ‘Bleeding things,' he said, as he scrambled to keep his hold on the rat.

‘Watch where you're going,' said Baines.

‘It nearly had me, that time,' said Rapple. He shook the rat to subdue it, then poured some of liquid from the bubbling bulb into a beaker.

The praying mantis creature turned the birdcage over and over in its claws, looking at it from every angle.

Julius wiped the clean circle a little wider. By the light of Baines's candle he could see Abigail clearly now.

She was almost twice as tall as a man and unlike any creature he had ever seen. One claw was made of kitchen forks and the other of knives. Her head was shaped like the muzzle of a dog. It was made of razors laid over each other like the scales of a fish. Her mouth was filled with razors too, forming long sharp teeth.

For eyes she had the casings of pocketwatches. Red light glowed behind the glass. Her head was fixed to a long neck of kitchen taps, washers and lengths
of pipe. The creature turned the birdcage around, checking it minutely. Another claw came up from behind the table. It was topped with five small mirrors, which flicked open, like a hand stretching its fingers, and fanned themselves around the cage.

‘She likes it, Mr Rapple,' said Baines with relief.

Rapple was not listening. He picked up a knife from the table.

‘We might as well use this one,' he said, looking at the rat hanging from his gloved hand.

He swung it by the tail, hitting it against the edge of the table. Then he sawed its head off and held it over the bubbling beaker. Blood poured from the rat like wine from a bottle. When it stopped Rapple wrung the carcass out like a dishcloth to get a few last drops. Julius felt his stomach lurch.

‘All done,' said Rapple, as he tossed the dead rat into a bucket under the table. The liquid in the beaker frothed and steamed for a few seconds then became still. Rapple held it up to the light and swirled the blood mixture inside.

‘It's a good batch, Mr Baines,' he said, admiring his gruesome work.

Baines was not listening. He stepped closer to Abigail, watching her examine the birdcage. Her red eyes flicked from one mirror to the next.

With the candlelight nearer to her, the shadows on the wall showed more of her form: a long curved
backbone with four long, leg-like appendages, bent at the knees and all jagged and haphazardly made of any piece of iron, tin or brass you could find in a kitchen or a tool shed.

A movement on the table brought Julius's eyes to a much smaller creature. It was scrabbling on a chain nailed to the table. It was too far away for him to be sure, but Julius thought it might have been made from carpentry nails and shards of tea tins. It made a clinking sound as it strained and squirmed on the table. This appeared to annoy Abigail. She rattled one of her claws. Her muzzle loomed close and her red eyes glowed brighter. The little creature tugged madly at its chain.

Abigail's claw of forks balled into a fist and slammed down on the creature. When she lifted her claw the creature struggled again, though not as energetically this time.

She slammed her claw down again and again, pounding the table until the creature was still.

Julius flinched with each blow.

Then Abigail stopped and watched the flattened creature, her claw held ready in case it stirred again. It dangled from the chain when she held it up for inspection. Then she began to pull bits off it as if she was plucking the wings from a moth.

Baines shuddered. ‘Charming.'

‘She's getting worse,' said Rapple.

‘We should tell Mr Tock.'

‘You tell him, I'm not.'

‘Why should I, then?'

Abigail turned her attention back to the birdcages.

‘At least she's stopped adding to herself. I wouldn't want to see her get any bigger,' said Rapple.

‘Thought any more about where we'll go when Tock lets them loose?' said Baines.

‘Yeah. I had an idea.'

Baines looked at him. ‘What was it, then?'

‘An island in the Pacific.'

‘An island? I like that. We'd be safe on an island.'

They paused a while, as if imaging sea breezes and flower-filled hills.

‘What a couple of specimens,' whispered Mr Flynn.

Before Julius could reply, the wall near the table began to bubble, like milk boiling in a saucepan. The bubbles fanned out into a circle as high as a door.

‘Here he comes,' said Baines.

CHAPTER 7

Friday 19th January 1838

11:43 PM

Baines straightened his hat and faced the bubbling wall.

Rapple stood to attention, still holding the beaker.

Julius stared in disbelief. ‘It's as if the wall's dissolving,' he said. ‘I can see through it. How could that happen?'

‘I have no idea,' said Mr Flynn.

Julius stared through his cleaned bit of glass at the bright circle on the wall.

‘There's light coming through, like sunshine,' he said. ‘It looks like the shape of rooftops. There's someone there.'

Mr Tock stepped through the bubbling wall. He was carrying a small wooden box, which he snapped
shut and put in his inside jacket pocket. Then he raised his wide-brimmed hat and bowed. Behind him the wall resolved itself into peeling plaster.

‘Gentlemen, gentlemen. Are you well? Are you? Are you?' he said.

‘Very well, indeed, Mr Tock, sir,' said Baines.

‘Yes, very well, sir,' said Rapple. He raised the beaker. ‘Just fixed up another batch of blood-and-bone fertiliser.'

‘
Excelentísimo
,' said Tock. ‘Allow me.' He took the beaker and blew on it to cool it a little.

‘Which of my darling soulcatchers would like to be fed first?' He appeared to be talking to the caged orchids.