The Curse of Salamander Street

by G. P. Taylor

  ‘Where’s Mister Gervais?’ she asked.

  ‘Left me in charge. He had urgent business elsewhere,’ Beadle said proudly as he pulled the man’s coat about his shoulders.

  ‘Better come in, and bring them with you,’ she said, and nodded to someone inside. Raphah and the others stepped from the coach. The inn door opened fully and a young boy ran to the carriage and led the horses through a narrow gateway at the side.

  Ergott clutched his bag as his wand danced in his pocket. Barghast and Lady Tanville followed him inside as Raphah looked down the road to a small park surrounded by tall iron railings.

  ‘Thought they’d be more than this. How can I make a living with just you three? No one here but you, the entire place to yourself,’ she said to Ergott as he stood dumbfounded and she picked her nose.

  ‘Times are difficult, since the coming of the comet,’ Barghast tried to answer before she stormed on.

  ‘Don’t mention that to me. Madness everywhere. Just look at that dog, quiet as a mouse and then when the moon comes out, becomes like a madman.’ The woman pointed to a small terrier in the corner of the room and then called it to her. ‘Ziggie, come here.’ The dog looked at her from its place by the fire and grunted to itself. ‘Ziggie …’ The dog didn’t move but rolled over by the fire and roasted its belly.

  ‘Well behaved,’ Ergott joked as he sat in a dusty chair by the narrow wooden stairway that led from the dark hall to a darker landing.

  Ziggie looked at him and sniffed. The hackles on the back of its neck stood rigid. It bared its teeth and gave a guttural growl.

  ‘You have made a friend,’ Barghast teased as the dog spun to its feet and began to bark.

  ‘That I have,’ he said as he stood and looked at the woman. ‘I take it I have a bed and a room of my own?’

  ‘You sleep by the fire,’ she said to Beadle. ‘You come with me,’ the woman grunted to the others as she walked up the stairs to a landing of rooms above. As they turned the corner to the stairs they saw a gallery of rooms that looked down upon the hall. Set in a frame of oak panels were several doors. She opened one door after another, not giving any sign as to who should sleep in each. Finally she looked at Raphah.

  ‘Do you sleep in a bed?’ she asked.

  ‘I sleep wherever you would like me to,’ he replied.

  ‘The street is a fine place, but then you wouldn’t pay me.’ She looked at him as he smiled at her. In his heart he wanted to laugh at her foolishness. ‘Do you mind him sleeping here?’ she asked Barghast.

  ‘In fact I would suggest he shares my room,’ he said. ‘I have three beds and a fire and we wouldn’t want to overburden you with work.’

  The woman nodded and looked at Barghast as if he were demented. She pulled up her corset and ruffled her skirt as she wiped her hand under her sweated arms.

  ‘Suggest you open the window,’ she said as a borborygmic convulsion rumbled in her guts. With that, she left them alone and disappeared down the stairs to appease her barking dog and find Beadle.

  Ergott quickly shut the door to his room without speaking. The bolt was slid swiftly and the mortise double-locked.

  ‘He needs to be guarded. I suspect he knows the way to Salamander Street,’ Barghast whispered. ‘I will take the first watch. We must keep him near at all times. Be ready, both of you.’

  Raphah slept for the hour as Barghast watched through the narrow opening of the door. He could hear Beadle chuntering to himself by the fire. Every so often the dog would moan as if bored by what he said. Ergott’s room was silent. The morning came and went and the afternoon faded and darkness fell as Barghast waited. Several cases were delivered one by one to Lady Tanville by a tawdry youth who looked as if he would die mounting the stairs. By the time the evening came, Barghast like all the others had begun to doze. He sat in the chair propped against the wall and rested his head upon his arm. The journey had taken life from them all. In the hallway below, Barghast could hear the sound of Beadle snoring.

  On the landing there was a sudden clink of metal as a latch dropped. Like a waiting fox, Barghast was woken from his dreaming. He listened intently as a booted footstep clattered against the board. Raphah woke without being called and stared at the door. Barghast motioned for him to be silent as he kept watch. The footsteps came closer. Barghast could see the shadow of a man cast black in the lamplight, the long coat and booted legs spread across the floor. The man came closer. Through the crack in the door, Barghast could just make him out as he looked over the landing to the hallway below. Raphah sneaked across the room and peered over his shoulder as together they watched the shadow get closer.

  A small-framed man in a frock coat and clean riding boots sauntered slowly along the landing. They could neither make out a single feature nor see his face. It was only when he got to the door of their room that the figure turned to face them, and then Raphah recognised who it was.

  Tanville Chilnam had cropped her hair, discarded her ladies’ travelling clothes and dressed as a man. She wore the attire of a country squire: yellow waistcoat, silk tie and canvas pants. As she turned she tapped gently upon the door.

  ‘Surprised?’ she asked in a whisper as she pushed the door open and went in. ‘Thought I would dress for the occasion, now I’m in London I don’t have to be so … provincial.’

  Raphah didn’t speak. He signalled for her to sit by the fire as they waited for Ergott.

  The wait was quickly over. In the hallway below, an old clock chimed nine of the clock. It rattled with each note as the spring recoiled and clattered against the case. Beadle chuntered in his sleep. The dog gave a sudden yelp as if woken from a dream of chasing rats. The door to Ergott’s room opened.

  Ergott stalked along the corridor, arms outstretched, diving rod in hand. It bobbed and danced in his fingers as if it had a life of its own, and Ergott obediently followed. He gave no notice to the narrow opening of the door to Barghast’s room. His mind was focused on the dowser in his hand. The wand led him onwards as if it were a hound that pursued its prey in the dark of the night.

  Ergott scurried down the stairs, jumping them three at a time, and skipped across the hall.

  ‘The chase is on,’ Barghast said as he and Raphah sprang to their feet and dashed along the landing, with Tanville running behind. ‘When we get to the streets, keep to the shadows. I will go ahead – he won’t see me.’

  As they watched Ergott run across the hall, all that clothed him began to disappear. Thick black fur sprung from his shoulders, and what were once hands became black paws. He fell to the floor by the fireplace and writhed in agony. Beadle woke from his sleep. The dog began to bark frantically as the man contorted before him. Ergott screamed as if in severe pain.

  ‘Blatherskite!’ Beadle exclaimed as the sight of the transformation sent him and the dog hiding in the shadows.

  The changing Ergott looked up, his face contorted. He growled as he breathed, seething painfully. The transformation from man to beast was quickly over. The wand vanished from sight.

  Beadle hid behind a large potted plant, not daring to step from the shadows. Then the scullery door creaked open and there was a shriek and a scream as the hosteller saw the lion by the fire. She raised her hand to her face and fell backwards, panting like a lamb about to be slaughtered.

  ‘Slabberdegullion!’ she shrieked, as if it were the last word she would ever say. With much ceremony she fainted: she twisted on her heels, spun several times and then crashed to the floor in a fat heap.

  Ergott growled loudly and leapt towards the door. He smashed against the wood as the door came open and he slithered into the street, vanishing in the darkness. The front door slammed behind him.

  Raphah and Tanville followed quickly. ‘See to her, Beadle,’ Raphah said as they left the inn for the cold of the night. Once outside, they caught a fleeting glimpse of the creature running in the shadows that fell from the eaves of the broken houses.

  They set off on the chase, keeping to the shadows.
Ahead they could hear Ergott growling as he ran back and forth through the empty streets. Somewhere nearby was Barghast, hunting the creature as he ran through the shadows.

  Slowly they managed to track Ergott from a closer distance. He kept to the wide streets and walked in the middle, away from the shadows.

  Within the hour they had walked half of London and Ergott stood before a large wall of cut stones. Raphah and Tanville hid themselves behind a stack of handcarts that had been made ready for a morning market that never came. The road had opened to a large square; on one side was a building with a large tower that looked out over the city. It looked like a prison or an old fortress.

  Ergott suddenly transformed, the dowsing wand appearing in his hand. He walked backwards and forwards along the wall. The dowsing rod danced in his hands and it took all in his power to stop it leaping towards the wall.

  ‘Lubberly louts and flouting milksops,’ he shouted, his words of frustration echoing around the square. ‘It has to be here … They have to be here …’

  Then he stopped and looked along the wall. Far to the right was a small arched door the size of half a man. The dowsing wand led him closer. Raphah and Tanville watched as he walked towards it and turned the handle. Before he entered, he read the sign that was embedded in the plaster. They heard him laugh as he stooped through the entrance and quietly closed it behind him.

  Barghast appeared from the shadows. He panted, out of breath, a broad smile on his face. ‘It is behind the wall – Salamander Street. I have been up on the roofs and it is here, though it cannot be seen with the eye. My journey is done, Raphah. Can you believe it?’

  ‘It comes to us all. I pray we will find Thomas and Kate.’

  There was a clatter of horses’ hooves as a black mare cantered along the road and into the square. The rider wore a long black cloak; his long white hair was tied back. He wore a parson’s collared shirt and sea-boots. The man jumped from the horse and looked about him. He surveyed the square and waited as if making sure he had not been followed.

  Raphah was not surprised by the man he now stared at from the shadows. He turned to Barghast, who nodded to him as if he too had seen the man and knew who he was.

  The man left the horse and slipped through the door.

  ‘Demurral,’ Raphah said. ‘He has been with us all the way.’

  ‘Then they are all in this together,’ Barghast said.

  ‘So why send Ergott if he knew where they would be?’ Raphah asked.

  ‘To make sure the job would be done. He couldn’t leave it to chance. Every step of our journey has been followed intently. We are expected to follow and the door will be open to us,’ Barghast said.

  ‘What business does he have here?’ Tanville asked.

  ‘Kate and Thomas. He said he would never let them go. Something binds him to them. He would have had them killed. Slaughtered like innocents. If they are here then their fate is sealed.’

  ‘Not if we take them from him,’ Tanville said, and she pulled a dandy gun from her pocket. ‘We shall each endure our fate in Salamander Street and I shall have an advantage when I meet with Galphus.’

  One by one, they crept across the square to the small wooden door. Raphah looked at the plaque above it. The Eye of the Needle – he read the scrawled letters plastered into the wall.

  Barghast smiled as he stooped through the entrance. ‘I know I will not see this place again, Raphah. You have been a good and unlikely companion. Whatever comes to pass, I pray that we will stand together when the sun rises in the east.’

  ‘A sure and certain hope,’ Raphah said quietly as he closed the door behind him and shut out the light of the hunter’s moon.

  The Jobbernol Goosecap

  Athick slime trickled across the ceiling before it dripped to the floor by Crane’s feet. Thomas and Kate huddled together in the corner to keep warm. Thomas thought how unnaturally cold she was – it was as if she was made of ice, or that death itself had already taken hold of her and the heart that warmed had stopped beating. She had tried to smile with her blue lips and muttered something in her stupor, and Thomas thought how she was no longer the Kate he knew. She had gone, without the chance for him to say goodbye. All he now embraced was a cold skin, an empty bag, a wrinkled carcass.

  ‘I let you down,’ Crane said, his shoulders drooped and head lowered. ‘Should have known things were not that easy. All the time, I could think of nothing but Salamander Street. Even on the ship I could hear the word in my head. When the priests seized the ship this was the first place I thought of to run to. We were tricked, well deceived.’

  ‘We can escape,’ Thomas said, his breath a cold vapour.

  ‘It’s gone from me, Thomas. Something has taken the will. With every day in this place I have resigned myself more to what will come. Wouldn’t be right to cheat fate. Payment – it’s payment for all that happened in Whitby.’

  ‘I feared you Jacob,’ Thomas said. ‘The very mention of your name made me quake in my boots. But you’re the man, Jacob. The man we all wanted to be.’

  ‘It was just a lie, I can see it now. Strip everything away and here I am. There is nothing here to be proud of, nothing at all.’ Crane’s voice sounded strained. He panted, as if each word were coated in broken glass.

  ‘I won’t wait to die, Jacob. And I won’t let them kill you and Kate. That’s what Galphus will do, kill us all. I’ve seen what the man does. He takes the moment of death and puts it in a jar. He’ll not take me, the old shite-a-bed.’

  Crane laughed. He rattled the manacles that held his wrists to the long metal chain that was coiled about his feet and braced to a metal ring wedged in the cobbled floor.

  ‘Think we could take ’em?’ he asked.

  ‘We could die trying.’ Thomas replied.

  ‘Wait until I say the word, and then …’ Crane paused and looked at Kate. ‘He’s killed her with the Gaudium, Thomas. I’ve seen it before. If all else fails, run and leave us both. Take the Magenta. There is a drinking house by the river, the Devil’s Inn, and close by is The Prospect of Whitby. If I have counted the days rightly then tonight is the feast of St Sola the Hermit. All my men will gather at the inn. Tell them my fate and take sail. With me dead the revenue men will auction the ship. Steal it before it can be sold and head for France. Will you do this for me?’

  ‘I won’t leave you,’ Thomas replied.

  ‘You’ll do what I say and have done with it. Would be stupid for us all to die, and Galphus will get what he deserves before he takes me. Whatever happens I promise he will not kill her. Even if I have …’

  Crane’s words were cut short. There was a jangling of a key in the lock and a bright light crept in through the cracks around the door. Muffled voices moaned and groaned from the far side and as the door was pushed open, Pallium and several Druggles stepped into the cell.

  ‘Galphus requests your company,’ Pallium snivelled, wiping more slug trails from his nose and across his sleeve. ‘I am to take you to him, all of you.’

  Thomas thought how he looked thinner than before. It was as if he were being eaten from inside, as if something took a pound of flesh every day and consumed him by the minute.

  They were taken without fuss. Crane was held by a long chain and a metal hoop on a long pole was placed around his neck as he was walked ahead of the rest. A Druggle carried Kate. Unaware of her condition, in her blissful slumber she lolled from side to side. Through several tunnels and then out across a cold yard they were taken into the back of a large house that stood near to the factory, just away from the Salamander Inn. Thomas could hear the constant singing just like the time before. He thought of the warm fire and Pallium’s deceitful words.

  Along a bare passageway, they were taken into what was once a drawing room. In the centre of the room was a long, narrow table. By its side were a bell jar and other primitive equipment, and near to the table was a wooden chair fitted with wrist-locks and strands of copper wire. Above the ornate fireplace was Isabella
’s picture.

  The grime of a hundred years had been cleaned from the paint. Within the bars across the pciture, Isabella stood proudly in death, looking down upon them. About the frame was wrapped more copper wire and hanging from it were pieces of teeth and bone. A small writ dangled from the frame; Thomas could make out an inscription on the parchment and could see the red wax seal that bound the spell.

  Kate was taken and placed in the chair. Her head was strapped to the high back and her hands and feet callipered to the wood. Crane was tethered like an old horse to the door; what was left of the chain was wrapped around him and tied to the large chair that he had been forced to sit upon. Thomas stood by the door, a Druggle holding him with the chain of the manacle.

  No one spoke. Pallium stood by the raging fire that gulped the chimney and sucked and seethed air into the room. They waited. The clock on the mantel chimed the quarter, the half and then the hour. They still waited.

  From the far end of the house the tap, tap, tap of a cane and footsteps could be heard – it was Galphus. He walked proudly, hitting the tip of his cane against the floorboards to match every step he took. Galphus entered the room.

  Thomas held back his laughter as he looked at him. Galphus had changed his attire. Gone were the day clothes of a dandy. Now the man dressed in a black silk gown that billowed as he walked. On his head he wore a tiger skull with silver teeth and emerald eyes; his hands were covered in red silk gloves and on his feet were Persian shoes that curled at the toes.

  Galphus smiled at Kate. He tapped the cane several times on the floor and then looked into the crystal ball.

  ‘All is well,’ he said smugly. ‘The doors to Salamander Street have been opened and the trap is set.’ Galphus looked at Pallium before he spoke again. ‘We have visitors, Mister Pallium, you know what to do.’

  Pallium turned and was gone. A Druggle followed him from the room.

  ‘I feel I must explain,’ Galphus said as he looked at Thomas. ‘This has all been an elaborate hoax on my behalf. Please do not feel let down but I have to say that I actually work in concert with an old friend. Obadiah Demurral. I believe you are familiar with him?’ Galphus asked.