Kill Fish Jones

by Caro King

  In Grimshaw’s head, thoughts and feelings churned and boiled. If he could find the Mighty Curse and wake it, he could achieve his aim and kill Fish Jones. But the world might end and every human with it.

  He curled his tail thoughtfully. For all Flute’s certainty that he cared, noble humans seemed like something he had worried about a long time ago and now the thought of wiping them out didn’t bother him at all. He wanted to be worth noticing; he wanted to be different. Angels and demons alike, he wanted to show them all.

  And what about the curse demons that he would also bring to an end? Grimshaw curled his lip in a sneer. What of it? He owed them no loyalty. All he ever got from them was mockery and scorn. He’d end himself too, of course, but so what? If he did this, if he awoke the Mighty Curse and wiped out everything for his own ends, he would no longer be some third-rate scraping of a demon. The instant before they were snuffed out they would know who it was who had bested Destiny against the odds. They would know who had killed them. And that would be enough for Grimshaw.

  Gazing out across the heaving, restless mass of the ocean, Grimshaw felt again its pull on his heart. His all-black eyes glittered darkly as the power of it worked into every inch of his being and made him want things. It made him want to be vast and eternal and mighty. It made him want to be MORE.

  Why care about death, he thought, when I can be great!

  Looking up, he saw that the sky was beginning to lighten. He watched it while it changed to turquoise silk and then pale green and then gold. And then the sun rose.

  And when it did, Grimshaw went to find the Mighty Curse.

  Book Two

  THE CURSE OF IMENGA THE MIGHTY

  26

  CALM

  When Fish woke up he was alone in the room. Not in the house though, for Alice had left the bedroom door open and he could hear her downstairs. He lay for a while, listening to the sounds of morning. Normally, he was woken up by early risers heading off for work in their cars, or by the milkman, or the smell of toast. Today, apart from Alice, all he could hear were birds singing. Nothing else. Not an engine sound anywhere.

  He yawned, stretched and sat up, then looked around, fearful that the demon would be crouched somewhere, watching him. Planning his death. It wasn’t.

  Getting out of bed, he pulled on his jeans and limped downstairs. His foot hurt too much to be put back into a shoe just yet. It was still wrapped in his handkerchief, which looked as if it might have stuck to the wound as the blood dried. He wasn’t looking forward to pulling it off.

  In the kitchen, Alice had emptied the contents of the Sainsbury’s carrier bag on to the table and laid them out. There was a packet of plastic knives and forks, a small jar of strawberry jam, a loaf of bread, two tins of soup, a small bottle of water and some chocolate. The lemonade and the biscuits from the night before were still upstairs.

  As Fish came in, she looked up. She was holding a bottle of kitchen cleaner in one hand and a cloth in the other – bought along with the food, Fish guessed – and she was covered in coal dust.

  ‘I got the stove going! And don’t think it was easy! I made a bit of a mess. And I even managed to get rid of the spiders!’ Through the dirt, her face shone with triumph. ‘Anyhow, I figured that since I couldn’t see the demons to worry about them, and since you needed a rest, I’d sort out the kitchen first thing.’

  As she spoke she sprayed the work surface next to the stove with a good dose of cleaner. A couple of demons that had been rolling about in some unidentified grime, hissed and spat, then rapidly dissolved under the fine drops. Another scrabbled out of the way and fell to the floor, where it evaporated. Fish laughed. Alice rubbed the surface vigorously with the cloth, sweeping up one last squalling demon.

  ‘I found some coal in the outhouse, only it was a bit webby in there and I’m not going anywhere near it after dark, and I had some matches in the bag and there were even some firelighter things to get it started, in the outhouse, I mean, and look …’

  She went to the sink and turned a tap. After a lot of spluttering, water came out.

  ‘The cottage has got a well. There’s a pump and I pumped for HOURS.’

  They looked at the brownish water.

  ‘We can boil some and use it to wash, but I don’t think we ought to drink it. We can have the rest of the lemonade and bread and jam for breakfast. I forgot butter. But we’re gonna have to get more food and something to drink from somewhere. We’ll have to find a shop.’

  Fish thought it might be a long walk.

  ‘Could be a long walk, mind you,’ went on Alice grimly. ‘Not a lot around here, as far as I can see!’

  They ate breakfast sitting on the back step where there was a paved area, trying to be a patio. It ended in a couple of steps down, a strip of grass and a low wall. Beyond that was open moorland, rolling out before them, decked with heather and shrubs and wild flowers. In the distance and nestling behind a couple of trees, they could make out an old farmhouse.

  ‘That must be the place we stopped at last night.’ Alice pointed with a jammy finger. ‘I wonder who lives there. Better go and say hello when we’ve eaten.’ She looked at Fish’s foot. ‘At any rate, after we’ve done something about you. That looks a right mess!’

  She got up and went inside, taking the plates. A moment later she was back with the third bag, the one that didn’t contain food or sleeping equipment, which she dumped on the ground next to Fish. She began taking things out of it.

  ‘Right. Spare money.’ She took out an old sponge bag and pulled open the tie ends. It was stuffed with a roll of banknotes. ‘Matches, rope, scissors – cos I didn’t have a knife – torch, spare batteries, alarm clock, emergency chocolate and spare knickers.’

  Fish blushed.

  ‘And …’ she triumphantly pulled out an old tin that used to hold fancy soaps, ‘… first-aid box. Nicked it from our bathroom. I better get a bowl of water and we’ll see what we can do. Oh, and Jed sent you this.’ From the bottom of the carrier bag she pulled something red. Jed loved red. It was his all-time favourite colour.

  Taking it carefully, Fish held it up. It was Jed’s jacket. His favourite jacket, the one he always wore. Fish looked at Alice.

  ‘He wanted to come too, but his mum would have noticed. He said you probably needed something to keep you warm and dry. You’re not going to cry, are you? Good. It was nice of him, though.’

  It was more than nice. And it was at that exact moment that Fish understood what friends were all about. Alice and Jed. That was friendship. One had rushed to Fish’s rescue at the drop of a hat and the other had given Fish the thing that he valued most in the world as a token of support, just because he couldn’t be there too.

  Alice had already gone to the kitchen. He could hear her cranking the handle of the pump and the sound of water splashing. It went on for a while. He was glad of the moments alone so that he could rub his eyes a few times and wipe his nose on his sleeve, as he didn’t have anything else to use. At last Alice came back with a bowl of hot water.

  ‘Sorry, took forever to boil. But the water’s coming out cleaner. Here, stick your foot in that and soak the hanky off.’

  She opened the first-aid box and began to sort out bandages and ointment. Fish turned his face up to the sun and closed his eyes. He was still feeling that peaceful feeling, like there was no need to run just now.

  ‘Feels kind of safe here, doesn’t it?’ said Alice, thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s the calm,’ said Fish.

  Alice looked at him.

  ‘The one before the storm,’ he explained.

  She nodded and went on bathing his battered foot.

  ‘We’ve just arrived in Crow’s Cottage,’ said Alice, ‘only Mum’s not feeling well so she sent us to see if there was a shop around here we could get some stuff.’ She looked at the woman innocently, as if it wasn’t obvious that there was no shop for miles.

  The house they had borrowed last night to convince the taxi man they were
safe turned out to belong to Mr and Mrs Dunnet. Mrs Dunnet, Penny, was a youngish woman, rather plump with a lot of bright copper hair and a large smile. She immediately invited them into the kitchen where she was baking huge quantities of cakes. Alice nudged Fish hopefully.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about your poor mam,’ said Penny, ‘but there’s no shop round here. Tell you what, why don’t you take some fresh bread and some milk and eggs from us?’

  Alice opened her mouth, wanting to be polite and say not to worry, but knowing that this was just what they needed. ‘That would be really great,’ she said, honestly.

  Penny was already putting things into a bag for them. ‘Arthur goes into Knockton on a Thursday, so if your mam’s not better tomorrow, you can give us a list and we’ll get you whatever you need.’

  She put the bag on the table next to Alice. It looked very full.

  ‘Um … Should we pay you for this?’

  ‘No!’ Penny winked at them. ‘Just take it as a sample of our famous Yorkshire hospitality.’ She went back to mixing dough.

  ‘You make all your own bread then?’ asked Alice.

  ‘Oh yes, and cakes …’

  ‘They look really nice …’

  ‘… and biscuits and things. There’s some in there for you. I sell them at the shop in Knockton.’

  ‘So you’ve lived here always? And you, like, know the area? What’s around here?’

  ‘Pretty near always. And there’s not much except for the odd farm. There’s the old water mill, of course. And Menga’s Tarn is just over that way –’ she nodded her head to the north – ‘but mind you don’t go swimming there as it’s terribly deep and there’s steep banks all around. Death trap, really. Then there’s Elonia’s Vale too, just beyond the tarn. Gorgeous. Always warm and full of butterflies! Something about a particular flower that grows there. Other than that it’s just the moors, but it’s a fine place to run wild and get a lot of exercise.’ She smiled at Fish, ‘it’ll do you good, get a bit of colour in your cheeks.’

  Fish smiled back.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Alice. ‘We’ll make the most of it.’

  Twenty-something miles away, in a quiet room with pale green walls and worn blinds, a woman stirred. She made a sound that was half sigh, half groan and her eyelids fluttered open. She lay for a while, taking in the sunlight filtering through the blinds, the smell of disinfectant and clean sheets, the pain that washed through her whole body.

  A door opened, letting in sounds of bustle.

  ‘All right, Mrs Jones?’ said a cheerful voice that didn’t seem to expect a reply. The nurse leaned over the figure in the bed. ‘The doctor will be along to see you shortly. You’ve had a nasty accident – do you remember?’

  With difficulty, Susan nodded.

  ‘We only know who you are because a lady found your handbag and gave it to the police. But don’t worry, you’re doing just fine. Here …’

  The nurse pressed a button, and the top end of the bed rose so that Susan was half sitting. Pouring some water from a jug at the side of the bed into a glass, she held it to Susan’s lips. Susan sipped gratefully. It tasted unbelievably sweet.

  As soon as she could manage it she croaked, ‘Fish?’

  ‘Sorry? Did you say fish?’ A puzzled frown creased the nurse’s brow.

  Susan made a huge effort. ‘Son. With me.’

  The nurse looked concerned. ‘Your son? Do you have more than one?’ She picked up something from the locker by the bed. ‘This arrived this morning. It’s from your son, isn’t it?’ She glanced at the postcard. ‘Oh, I see. He’s Fish! Here.’ She tucked the card into Susan’s unbandaged hand.

  Eagerly, Susan read it.

  Dear Mum

  I hope you are doing OK and it doesn’t hurt too bad. I can’t come and see you yet because Crow’s Cottage is too far away, but I’ll write again soon. This is just to tell you that I am ALL RIGHT and not to worry about me. Just get better soon. When I do see you, I’ll tell you everything. Remember the talk we had that Christmas Day? It’s like that. Trust me.

  Love,

  Fish

  Susan closed her eyes to stop the tears. She felt so weak, as if the accident had drained all her strength and will. But she remembered the look in Fish’s eyes that Christmas Day, when he had told her to go to the doctor as soon as she could. And she remembered Dr Collins saying that if she had left it any later she could have been in serious trouble. Dying trouble. And she remembered the time a few months later when Fish had suddenly started smiling again. So whatever was happening now, whatever it was that she didn’t fully understand but that must have something to do with the horrible curse they were all under, she trusted that Fish did understand and knew what he was doing. She knew that as his mother she spent all her time looking after him, and that was right. But she also knew that in ways she didn’t always see he looked after her too, and whether that was right or not didn’t matter. It’s just how it was. And what the postcard really said, underneath the words, was that Fish was looking after her right now.

  ‘He’s not like other people,’ she told the nurse.

  ‘He sounds like a lovely boy and I’m sure he’ll come and see you as soon as he can.’ The nurse spoke absent-mindedly, scribbling in the red folder at the bottom of the bed. Then she smiled at Susan again. ‘In an hour or so, I think you might be ready to try a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘Would you like that?’

  Susan nodded, feeling some strength leak back into her damaged limbs. The pain had lifted a little. She could make out bandages on her left arm and a cast on her leg. Her ribs felt like red-hot pokers in her body, and her face hurt when she smiled or spoke or swallowed. But she was alive and still seemed to have all the same parts that she had when they had started out on their journey. And she still had Fish. Suddenly, she felt incredibly lucky.

  In an hour and a half, after Susan had had another sleep, the nurse came back with some tea, and Susan found that sitting up and drinking was not as hard as it might have been.

  When they got back from Mrs Dunnet’s they ventured into the downstairs toilet. Fish sorted out the spiders and Alice threw out the mouldy mat, dumping it in the shed along with the curtains that had spent the night on the front step. In there, the demons could play all they liked without bothering either of them. Getting the toilet working again was another matter, until Alice came up with the bright idea of dumping a bucket full of water from the pump into the cistern and flushing it that way. They tried it, using a paint-stained bucket Fish found in the outhouse. It worked.

  ‘Great! Now, we’ve got all we need. If Penny helps us out with the shopping we can hole up here for as long as necessary.’ She smiled at Fish. ‘We don’t have to look in any of the other rooms just yet, either.’

  Fish was happy to agree. He didn’t know what kind of life was behind the closed doors of the lounge, the upstairs bathroom and the other bedroom, and right now it could stay that way.

  For lunch they drank some of Penny’s milk and ate the cake and apples she had put into the bag with the other things. She had given them a bottle of lemonade too, which was brilliant because it was a hot day and they both felt thirsty.

  Afterwards, as Fish’s foot was still sore and they didn’t want to go far, they tracked down to the nearby Menga’s Tarn and spent the afternoon sitting under the trees on its steep banks. Then they went back to the cottage and sunbathed on the patio. There was no sign of the demon.

  At six o’clock they finished off the bread that Alice had brought with her and some hard-boiled eggs, and at seven o’clock Alice’s mother rang. Alice had charged up her mobile before she left, so it would last them a few days if they were careful and kept it for emergencies.

  Fish looked at Alice. She was lying on the back step, ignoring everything. So he reached over, dug in the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the phone. He shoved it under Alice’s nose. She mumbled and took it.

  ‘Yeah? Oh, hi, Mum.’

  Fish could hear a gabbled
voice on the other end.

  ‘M’at Fish’s. Project for school.’

  More gabbling.

  ‘Dunno. Stay the night if Mrs Jones lets me.’

  Listening carefully, Fish made out the words ‘out’ and ‘late evening’.

  ‘Right. Yeah. Will do. Have nice time.’

  Alice pressed the end button and dropped the phone. ‘She says, Hi, Fish, and to thank your mum.’ She went back to dozing in the evening sun.

  So did Fish.

  27

  WONDER

  Grimshaw was so full of the idea of success it was like a fever in his brain. He wanted to get on and find the Mighty Curse as soon as possible, but he had one problem. Flute had told him that as a half-life he would be able to work out the whereabouts of the Mighty Curse by himself. The exact word she had used was ‘divine’. But he didn’t understand how. What was he supposed to do? Guess?

  He went through what he knew of the Mighty Curse, which was very little. Basically it was somewhere in Real Space … No! Wait a minute!

  Grimshaw screwed up his face, trying to remember. There was a clue tucked away in his head, something someone had said to him. His brow cleared as he heard again the voice of the Horseman … that lies buried deep and sleeping …

  Buried! That wouldn’t mean a graveyard of course, but somewhere deep underground. Maybe a cave. Grimshaw decided to start with the deepest cave he could find and straight away zapped to a Real Space library to look it up. Libraries in Real Space always seemed weird to Grimshaw as they were so harmless. Not at all like the ones in Grey Space, where all the fiercely hungry half-lives contained within the book covers made finding a book a real adventure.

  While he was in the library he also looked up ‘to divine’ in a dictionary and found out that it meant gaining insight into the unknown by supernatural means, which didn’t really help.