The Bonehill Curse (12 page)

‘What do you mean?’ Ness edged towards the door.

‘Keep still,’ Cullwirthy said, jabbing the barrel of the gun towards her. ‘The djinn will be more than interested in the two of you. Maybe I can catch his attention enough to strike a deal and, if not, then the silver sword with his name on it should be enough to slay him. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Lashkar boy. Bonehill told us all about your lot and their antics.’

The lamp grew faint and a chill fell over the room. The fire sputtered and began to smoke as if cold water had been poured over it. The smoke boiled and grew, filling the room, making Ness and Azuli cough.

Cullwirthy cackled, pointing at the shape that solidified in the fog before their eyes. ‘Talk of the devil and he’s sure to appear.’

Malice drinks its own poison.

T
raditional proverb

Chapter Sixteen

D
eath
D
eals

The smoke swirled and twisted as the figure grew more substantial. Ness saw the same features of the doll-like creature in her dream but he had filled out and grown in height. Stitches still bound his eyelids together. A grin full of needle teeth spread across his skeletal face. A ragged loincloth was all he wore and boils punctuated the yellowing skin that stretched across his bony frame.

‘The Reverend Cullwirthy,’ the djinn hissed. ‘You look well. Has your life been all you hoped?’

‘I have no complaints,’ Cullwirthy said, sweat coursing down his brow.

‘I’ve just visited the Quilfy household,’ the djinn said, his reedy voice mocking Cullwirthy. ‘But there was no one at home. I was quite put out.’

‘She’s beyond your cruelty now, you demon,’ Cullwirthy spat.

The djinn inclined his head as if in agreement. ‘True, but then she hardly had much of a life with her beloved William. Still, you have problems of your own now.’

‘Perhaps,’ Cullwirthy said. ‘But then I thought we might cut a deal, you and I.’ The pistol shook in his grasp but he had pointed it away from Ness. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Azuli edging towards the door.

‘A deal?’ The djinn’s grin almost split his scabbed face and his topknot of hair shook as he laughed. ‘What have you got that I would possibly be interested in?’

Azuli had moved out of Ness’s vision now. Her heart hammered at her ribs. If he could make it to the hall and the sword, they might have a chance.

‘The girl, for one,’ Cullwirthy said, nodding in Ness’s direction.

‘Ah, Necessity Bonehill,’ the djinn said, bowing low and chuckling to himself. ‘We’ve already met, Cullwirthy. You’re too late on that score. She has four more days by my reckoning. Have you found your parents yet, Necessity?’ He laughed and turned back to Cullwirthy. ‘You have nothing to bargain with and my power is growing. Behold.’ The djinn waved his long fingers at the vicar, who gave a whimper and held up a hand as if to ward off the djinn’s attack.

Ness stared in horror as Cullwirthy’s hand stiffened and then turned black. The skin took on a polished hue then, with a sickening crack and squelch, the fingers merged into two long claws. Bristly hairs sprang from the skin. Cullwirthy’s jacket sleeve shrivelled into his arm as it became stick thin, black and shining. More bristles sprouted. With a crack, his left leg gave beneath him. Cullwirthy howled in agony as his body cracked and twisted, forcing him to the floor.

‘No, please,’ Cullwirthy shrieked. ‘I have something. I do!’

Ness gave a scream as a new leg burst from Cullwirthy’s other side.

‘Look at you now,’ the djinn spat. ‘Out of all of them I despised you almost as much as Bonehill. A hypocrite, sermonising every Sunday while enjoying the spoils of your evil ways and lusting after Widow Quilfy. What could a worthless insect like you possibly offer me?’

Ness felt sick. Cullwirthy’s head now poked out of the fat, bloated body of a beetle. Fronds and bristles waved from the shining black thorax.

Cullwirthy’s voice had taken on a croaking tone. ‘A Lashkar boy . . . with a silver sword.’

‘WHAT?’ The djinn reared up, seeming to grow in stature.

Ness threw herself behind an armchair as Azuli burst back into the room, howling and swinging the sword – or was it the scimitar that howled?

For a moment, Ness saw real terror on the djinn’s face. He launched himself backward as the sword cut through the smoky air.

‘I know you, djinn, and your name is Zaakiel.’ Azuli’s voice sounded strong and full of authority. ‘Allah can see you and you shall perish.’

Another swing narrowly missed the djinn, sending him tumbling over tables and chairs. Hurling a plant pot at Azuli, the djinn pointed at Cullwirthy, who writhed and quivered on the floor. With an ever-diminishing scream, the Reverend began to shrink. Ness screwed her eyes shut as the djinn slammed his foot down hard on the place where Cullwirthy had been and the screaming stopped.

‘So the Lashkars of Sulayman still march?’ the djinn snarled. His laughter had gone now.

‘You are the last djinn. This is the last sword,’ Azuli said, carving an arc just inches from the djinn’s head.

‘The last sword, eh? But you’re a mere boy,’ the djinn scoffed. ‘Are the Lashkars so desperate? Will they send old women to stop me next?’

‘Azuli, don’t listen!’ Ness cried. She could see the danger. Zaakiel was goading him. Anger and precise swordsmanship never mixed; Ness had learned that very early in her training.

‘The Lashkars will vanquish you, Zaakiel!’ Azuli yelled, his face reddening.

He swung the sword sideways and Zaakiel raised his wrist to meet the blow. Azuli gave a cry of victory as the djinn’s hand went spinning off across the room, spattering green blood over carpet, walls and furniture. The djinn doubled over with a scream of agony. For a moment he remained still and Ness held her breath.
Is he dying?
But then the creature began to shake.
No
,
he’s laughing
, Ness thought. Slowly the djinn raised his head, grinning.

‘Your mistake,’ he panted, clamping his remaining hand over the stump of his wrist. Azuli stood staring helplessly as the blade in his hand began to vanish. ‘The blade is melting but it hasn’t slain me. Now I have something for you.’ He stretched forward and opened his mouth, spitting a fountain of foul-smelling green slime at Azuli.

The boy fell back as boils bubbled up on his face and arms, sweat soaking his clothes. He dropped the scimitar handle and gripped his throat.

‘No!’ Ness threw herself at the djinn but he exploded into smoke as soon as she made contact with him.

‘I would flee if I were you, little Necessity,’ Zaakiel chuckled. ‘He will die and become one of mine. You think me evil and twisted, but life is hard and it will not leave you unscathed, believe me.’

‘Release him, you monster!’ Ness yelled as the djinn swirled around her.

‘I never wished for this,’ he hissed. ‘My silent prayers went unheeded across the gulf of three thousand years. All because I wouldn’t bow to a tyrant.’

‘A tyrant?’ Ness squatted down and cradled Azuli in her arms.

‘Sulayman. A great magician. A wise man. A bully,’ Zaakiel said. ‘We worked with him at first, carving cities out of mountains, turning deserts into lush jungles, building an empire together. But Sulayman became powerful and proud. He wanted us to bow down to him. “I have the wisdom and blessing of Allah,” he told us. “I command man, afrit, animal and tree. I am a mighty potentate.” And then we were afraid. We fled in terror of our lives, killing any who would try to catch us and bring us to kiss Sulayman’s feet. But caught we were. For their disobedience my friends and family were sealed in the tiniest of vessels for all time. Trapped by Sulayman’s curse.’

‘I won’t let him die,’ Ness snapped, scooping Azuli up in her arms. ‘Whatever happened thousands of years ago, it doesn’t give you the right to do what you just did. It’s wrong.’

‘You will understand soon, Necessity Bonehill.’ The djinn began to fade. ‘Believe me, you will. The time of mankind is coming to an end.’

Ness staggered to the front of the vicarage, Azuli in her arms. She could feel the clamminess of his skin, the rattling of his breath. He was dying.

Pride went out on horseba
c
k and returned

on foot.

T
raditional proverb

Chapter Seventeen

F
ever

Struggling with the weight of Azuli’s limp body, Ness staggered into people, barging crowds of angry gentlemen aside as she tried to keep hold of him. His breath groaned from his body and she feared that each would be his last. He felt hot then cold and sometimes he would squirm and cry out in his delirium. The gaslights blazed as she pushed through a sea of shocked faces, focusing on her aching arms and legs so as to avoid remembering the images of Cullwirthy’s hideous death.

On she stumbled, gasping, until at last the buildings became more familiar. Once more she found herself in the winding maze of alleys and uttered a silent prayer that she didn’t meet Harmy Sullivan and his gang tonight.

Azuli stared up at her blankly and threw an arm out, making her drop him.

‘Don’t die, you stubborn fool,’ Ness panted as she dragged him by the shoulders through the muddy alleyways. ‘I’ll never forgive you if you go now.’

The alcove and the barrels finally came into view and Ness threw herself at the blue gate.

Jabalah’s face appeared before her. ‘Miss Bonehill, where have you been?’ He stopped when he saw Azuli lying at her feet. Without further questions, he grabbed Azuli and ran through the streets, leaving Ness to trail after.

The night kept people in their homes but it didn’t stop them from peering through windows as Ness passed. More bad news had spread, it seemed. Ness saw Jabalah disappear into Hafid’s house with his feverish burden and she followed.

‘What have you done?’ Taimur screamed as Ness entered the room. Two Lashkars held his arms, otherwise she thought she might have had to defend herself. Azuli lay murmuring on a sofa, shaking his head from side to side.

Ness slumped on to a chair without being asked to sit down and buried her head in her hands. ‘I didn’t force him to come,’ she sighed. ‘We found the djinn. Azuli fought bravely.’

‘And the fiend?’ Hafid asked, hope edging his voice as he stood at Azuli’s head, knitting his fingers together.

‘He tricked Azuli.’ Ness groaned. ‘He was wounded but not killed.’

‘The djinn lives,’ Hafid hissed. ‘And now the sword is gone.’

‘My son,’ Taimur cried, falling to Azuli’s side and hugging him close. ‘So young.’

‘He was brave.’ Hafid laid a hand on Taimur’s shoulder.

‘There must be something we can do!’ Ness cried.

‘There is no cure for the djinn’s plague,’ Hafid said, shaking his head. ‘It is only my protective charms that stop him spreading among us here.’

‘Spreading?’ Ness echoed.

‘The plague is highly contagious, Miss Bonehill,’ Hafid whispered. ‘How many people did you brush against and bump into on your way here?’

‘Oh my Lord. No,’ Ness gasped. ‘That’s what the djinn meant. He wanted me to take Azuli away. The time of man is coming to an end.’

‘You carried Azuli and the contagion through the city,’ Hafid said, his voice half resigned, half angry. ‘Soon it will spread, killing man, woman and child, rich and poor, heathen and believer, creating an army of Pestilent walkers to do the djinn’s bidding.’

‘I didn’t know . . . I didn’t mean to –’ Ness began.

‘Just like you didn’t mean to open the bottle and let the djinn out,’ Taimur spat.

‘I wish I hadn’t,’ Ness said, tears stinging her eyes. ‘I really do.’

‘Wishes,’ Hafid muttered, staring at Ness with his blind eyes. ‘That’s where this all began. A web of wishes that has entangled so many people. We all have wishes, Necessity Bonehill. I wish Azuli was fit and well again, I wish we could find another way to destroy the djinn. I wish we could win in the end. But wishes rarely come true in the way we want them to.’

Ness hung her head. The room seemed to spin and she screwed her eyes shut, only to see the djinn’s leering grin; Cullwirthy twisting and writhing as he transformed; Azuli’s grey face, bathed in sweat and blistered with sores. Faster and faster the images whirled and spun around in her mind’s eye until she felt like she was falling, tumbling into a dark abyss. The last thing she saw was Jabalah leaping forward, his arms outstretched to catch her as she fainted.

Ness floated in a dream through mist and fog. Once more she felt cold and alone, unable to see a hand right in front of her. The djinn’s voice whined in her ear like a mosquito, sometimes far off, sometimes close to.

‘In the darkness of my first century trapped in the bottle, I vowed that anyone who let me out would have a thousand of my blessings and three wishes.

‘And sure enough, after two hundred years of waiting, of listening to the tide rush against the walls of my tiny prison, I felt the pull of a net drag me to the surface of the dark sea.

‘The light blinded me, burned my skin, sent me screaming into the sky, but the joy of freedom made me immune to pain.